


The Live-In

by hotchoco195



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Gen, Implied Torture, Jim is a spoiled brat, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, M/M, One Big Happy Family, Post-Reichenbach, Pregnancy, bamf!Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Aren’t ordinary people adorable? Well you know, you’ve got John. I should get myself a live-in one. It’d be so funny.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Jim’s mind was completely blank as he sat bolt upright. He sucked in a mouthful of air and fought to relax against the adrenaline coursing through his system.

“Welcome back, boss.”

He glanced over at the tall blond packing away a syringe. _Sebastian_. He felt the surface under his (naked) self. _Cold steel. Morgue_.

“Did it work?”

“Saw him hit the ground,” the sniper held out a pile of clothes, “Let’s get you out of here before they come down to do an autopsy.”

Jim still felt a bit foggy, just staring at his lieutenant. Moran sighed and nudged his legs until he moved them off the table, pulling the slacks up for him. He was shaking out the shirt when Jim flapped a hand.

“Yes, yes Sebastian, I can take it from here. How long until Miss Hooper joins us?”

“Should be back in about ten. She was crying in the bathroom last I saw.”

Jim chuckled and took the suit jacket. “Ah poor Molly, I feel I may have broken her heart again.”

“Alright. Ready?”

“No. I want to see him.”

“Boss, there’s no time-”

“I _want_. To see him.”

Sebastian’s lips immediately pressed together but there was no arguing with that tone. He walked over to the bank of freezers in the wall and unlocked the door on the bottom right. He drew out the drawer and stepped back.

 

Jim bit his lip to contain his smile as he walked over, each step careful and slow. His bare feet were silent as he drew a hand up and hovered over the sheet.

“This is it, Sebastian. This is the moment we have been planning for years. And it’s almost a little anticlimactic, you know?” he smirked, “Did you film it?”

“Course, boss.”

“Good boy. Let’s take a look at you Mr Holmes.”

He pulled back the sheet, but there was no body. Sherlock’s clothes were bundled up, empty, on the shelf.

“What!”

“This can’t be right, boss. I saw them bring him in same as you. I don’t understand.” Moran started checking the names on the other drawers.

Jim burst out laughing, a hollow angry laugh that had him bent over with his hands on the empty morgue drawer.

“Uh, you okay?”

“That brilliant, perfect son of a bitch. I underestimated him, Sebastian. I thought not even Sherlock Holmes could fake a four-storey plunge.”

“Boss, we have to get you out of here.”

But Jim just laughed helplessly, eyes fixed on the abandoned blood-stained coat that meant he’d been outsmarted. _For once_.

They both heard the footsteps at the same time and Sebastian whirled around to reach the door. It opened and he grabbed someone, pulling them inside faster than Jim could make out. Molly looked at Moriarty with utter shock and terror, Moran’s hand clasped over her mouth as he held his gun to her chin.

“Molly! You have outdone yourself. I’m afraid I quite overlooked your importance. Extraordinary, really, that of all Sherlock’s little friends I forgot how devoted you are. How you’d do anything to help him even though he’ll never look at you twice.” Moriarty’s smile grew as he stepped closer.

Molly shivered as he ran a hand over her cheek.

“Ah, yes. Sorry if I’m a bit gory,” Jim pointed at the fake blood that was encrusted in his hair and ran down his neck, “A necessary part of my plan. So what have you done with Sherly?”

 

Her eyes were huge, arms rigid in Moran’s hold. Jim nodded to his sniper and the man released her mouth.

“Wh-wh-what makes you think I know?”

“Because corpses do not get up and walk away by themselves.”

Her lip shook but she drew herself up. “I don’t know where he’s gone. A-a-and, I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

“No, I’m sure you wouldn’t. No matter. My game with Sherlock is over for now.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “What?”

Jim shrugged and knelt to take the small bag Sebastian had dropped from the floor. “I told him to jump and he did. So long as he keeps his pretty head down I’m happy. John and the others are safe. Don’t know about you though.”

“Me?” she squeaked.

“You fooled me. I think that deserves a bit of special punishment, don’t you Moran?”

Molly opened her mouth to scream but Jim slapped his hand over it. “I wouldn’t, dear.”

He unzipped the bag and drew out another syringe already full of a thick clear liquid. Jim tugged the protective cover off with his teeth and plunged it into Molly’s arm. She trembled as he stroked her hair, the needle emptying into her veins.

“W-what did you give me?”

“Just a taste of what you gave Sherlock, I’m sure.”

The sedative was fast and within seconds Molly was drooping in Sebastian’s arms. Jim rushed over to the other side of the morgue and grabbed a wheelchair.

“Take the coat off her.”

Sebastian hurriedly obeyed. “We definitely need to go, boss.”

“Yes, yes.” Jim fussed as he held the chair steady so Moran could position her in it. He took the white lab coat and put it on before nodding.

“Go get the car. I’ll wheel her down.”

Moran knew better than to question Jim, and he hurried out.

“Oh we’re going to have such fun, Molly. We really are.”

*****

The first thought that came to Molly was those wicked, black eyes grinning at her evilly. She sat up with a scream, chest heaving.

“There now, Molly! Bad dream?”

She glanced over at where Jim was sitting by the bed, legs crossed, and automatically scrambled away from him.

“How are you alive?”

He tutted. “Come now, that’s not a very hard question. I knew you’d be too distraught over Sherlock to conduct a thorough examination at once and my special effects were very good. Didn’t realise your distraction would be helping Sherlock escape, but that turned out even better.”

She didn’t want to ask, but she had to. “What are you going to do to me?”

“What do you think?” Jim smirked, “Take a look around Molly. Give me your best guess and show Daddy how clever you can be.”

She took a closer look at the room and realised with a shock it was nothing like she’d expected when Moriarty said ‘special punishment’. It was a sumptuous bedroom, furnished elegantly but simply. The view from the open curtains was an ordinary busy London street. She looked down and noticed someone had changed her into a champagne satin nightgown that probably cost more than she made in a month. She crossed her arms over her chest, blushing. What should she say? _Can’t be that different to dealing with Sherlock, surely?_

“You’re not going to torture or kill me. Yet.”

“Very good! Although the last point hurts, Molly, it really does. I have no designs on your current state of health unless you misbehave.” He pouted.

“Did you dress me?” she spat angrily.

“Nope, got Sebastian for that. I was busy getting the corpse smell off me. How do you stand it on a daily basis?”

“So you’re going to what, keep me hostage to torture Sherlock? Set up some sick trap with me as bait?”

“Nothing of the sort. I told you, I’m done with Sherlock for now. Done with London, actually. I have to lie low as well so Sebastian and I will be heading for the Continent and you, Miss Hooper, are coming with.”

For a long moment she just gaped. “Me? Coming with? Why?”

“Because I want you to.” He smiled.

“But…for what? What do you want me for?” Her voice was small and disbelieving.

“Why, your excellent company of course.”

 

Molly shifted uncomfortably and drew the sheets tighter to her chest. “Oh.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Not like that, silly – although I must say you look quite fetching when you’re not mooning over Sherly. I want someone to appreciate my brilliance, and maybe occasionally distract me from the stresses of being, well…me.”

Molly’s brows shot up. “You want me to be your distraction?”

“Yes. You’ve got some brains, you’re not unpleasant, your manners are outstanding. You work with the dead, which I must admit intrigues me from such a timid girl. You’ve already shown you’re an eager audience for genius. I thought it might be fun.”

She just stared at him. “Sherlock was right. You are insane. Why would I _want_ to keep you company?”

“Because if you don’t, you cease to be of use to me and become a liability. And Sebastian handles my liabilities quite ruthlessly, as you can imagine. I’m sure you’ve seen some of his work on your table from time to time.”

She was truly frightened now, not by the threats but by the fact that this Jim was so unlike the one she’d known. He was unpredictable, dangerous – he’d almost successfully brought down the cleverest man she knew. Molly sniffed, fighting back tears of self- pity. “So that’s it? You’re going to bully me into being your friend?”

“Oh heavens no. I have no friends. Sherlock and I could have been I suppose, if not for the basic fact two egos that big could never survive in each other’s path long. No Molly, I’m making you a very generous offer. You know I’m not dead, yet instead of leaving your broken body on the doorstep of 221B I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime.”

He moved to the edge of the mattress, crowding into her space as he continued.

“I take care of what’s mine, Molly – and make no mistake, that’s what you are now. I’ve got the money to keep you in a style you could never dream of. We’ll travel, experience a good amount of culture and decadence, and if you’re nice I might even give you new bodies to examine. Plus best of all, you’ll get to spend loads of time with me!”

Her stomach churned at his smile. “You can dress it up how you like, it’s still kidnapping.”

His face became deadly serious. “Then think about it this way, Molly. What are you giving up? A lonely apartment with a sad cat and an existence in the morgue where the only people who notice you are the ones you cut open. What would you do here, Molly? Skulk around until Sherlock makes his glorious reappearance? You’ve got no one, Molly Hooper. Why shouldn’t you come with me?”

“You’re a lunatic. You kill people for money.” She muttered, not feeling as brave as she sounded.

“I do a lot more than that. Still, you I would kill for fun! So choose Molly. Come to Europe and be pampered beyond your wildest dreams, or you’ll get to see a body bag from the other side for once.”

She took a deep, sobbing breath and looked down. “Fine.”

 

Almost as soon as Molly agreed to come they were in a car to the airport. She’d been given a dress of the softest wool she’d ever felt, the green clinging to her curves in a way that made her face red. Molly was left wondering how a mad criminal could care more about what she wore than she did. Moriarty sat beside her in the backseat looking at his phone intently. She couldn’t see his eyes through the dark glasses but he seemed pleased.

“Where are we going?” she finally ventured to ask.

He didn’t even look up. “Learn to appreciate surprises, my dear. Your life is going to be full of them.”

She frowned but turned her attention to Moran. He sat beside the driver, eyes scanning the road as they passed through the traffic. The tall blond glanced back at her and she looked away quickly. Molly tried to memorise the buildings as they passed, certain she wouldn’t see them again for a long time – if ever. _What are you doing, Molly? You should just jump from the car now_. But something stopped her. Moriarty was the kind of man who would hunt her all her days if he felt like it, and even with someone as clever as Sherlock on her side Molly didn’t want to piss him off. She wasn’t going to live her life looking over her shoulder.

 

They boarded a private jet. She had no idea where Moriarty had found the time to fabricate a passport for her, but it looked like the best quality forgery. The picture was the one from her actual passport.

“Susan _Mengele_?”

“Problem?” Moriarty raised his brow.

“You named me after the Angel of Death?”

“Seemed rather fitting, don’t you think?”

She sat down and did up the seatbelt angrily.

“Aw, don’t fuss Molly. I promise you can pick your own alias next time.”

“Will I get to pick yours?” she huffed.

Jim smiled with too many teeth. “Maybe. What did you have in mind?”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

“You are impatient! I would have thought someone used to the slow chemical processes of a lab would be able to handle suspense much better.”

She turned to the window and resolutely refused to look at him or speak for the rest of the flight.

 

Molly must have dozed off naturally at some point, because she didn’t eat or drink anything on the plane and couldn’t remember Moriarty drugging her again. She yawned and glanced out the window, but all she could see were the long flat lines of the airport tarmac.

“Where are we?”

“Prague. Have you ever been?”

“No.”

“It’s been awhile, but I have fond memories.” Jim smiled and for once she believed the warmth on his face. Then she wondered what the memories were of and pushed her surprise aside.

Sebastian came out of the cockpit and nodded. “Car’s waiting, boss.”

“Excellent. Miss Mengele?”

Molly glared at him and followed Moran down the steps. A long, obscenely cliché black limo was ready at the bottom and as soon as Sebastian had checked it over Jim slid in, patting the seat beside him expectantly.

“Come along dear. We’re going home.”

“Home?” she climbed in with a puzzled look.

“One of many, but easily one of my favourites. How’s your Czech?”


	2. Chapter 2

They drove for about half an hour before stopping in front of a big old building surrounded by small rundown shops. Moran disappeared inside and came back a few minutes later with two doormen.

“It’s all good, boss.”

“Lead the way, Bastian.”

The sniper held the door open as Molly got out. She couldn’t really tell what he thought of her, his face impassive as he waited for Jim. The doormen went in with their luggage and they followed, heading into a small ordinary lobby with an abandoned reception desk. The lift looked like it had been there since before Molly’s parents were born, but it closed smoothly enough and they rode up the six floors in quiet comfort. The workers left their suitcases outside the only door in the hallway with a respectful bow and headed back down, leaving Sebastian to let them in.

“Gosh!” Molly said involuntarily, clapping her hands to her mouth.

The apartment stretched on forever. It must have taken up the whole top floor. She could see a number of doors off into different rooms but the main one they were standing in was a free-flowing open plan space with a kitchen and dining area, then a large lounge and study type corner. It was furnished in beautiful minimalistic pieces and bold colours, the floor and walls white wood. One wall was all windows looking over the tiled rooves of the city, and on another there was a truly enormous mirror.

“Please show Miss Hooper to her room. Molly, I’ll collect you for dinner.” Jim headed straight for one of the doors.

“Wait! What am I supposed to do until then?” she asked sheepishly.

Jim spun in place. “Why, whatever you want dear.”

He strode away, leaving her stunned in the doorway. Sebastian cleared his throat, both suitcases in hand.

“Uh, Miss Hooper?”

“Sorry, sorry!” she moved out of the way. For a second she considered just bolting through the open door before realising that was stupid. She was in Prague, with no money and no local knowledge. Even if she found a cop she had no idea how to overcome the language barrier and explain a supposedly non-existent criminal mastermind had kidnapped her.

“Jim’s room is the one of the right, you’ve got the left and I’m in the middle.”

“You sleep here too?”

“Course. Never know when the boss will have a mad whim and need a driver or a guard. Your protection’s arriving tomorrow.”

“ _My_ protection?”

But he didn’t answer, just opened the door and waved her in. It was as nice as the rest of the apartment. There was an attached ensuite and a lock, which made her breathe a sigh of relief. _At least I’ll have some privacy_. An empty bookshelf sat next to a desk and a laptop.

“Boss said I’m to get you anything you want to read, and you’ve got that for writing. No Internet capability though.” Moran said.

“Um, thanks. I guess I’ll just unpack until dinner. Do you have any idea when that will be?” she asked.

Sebastian gave her a strange look and shrugged. “With the boss, who knows? Could be half an hour, could be midnight. Jim has some strange habits but you’ll get used to them.”

“Great.” She grimaced as he shut the door. _Molly, what the hell have you got yourself into?_

 

Jim looked up as Sebastian came in. “Well?”

“She seems smart enough not to run. Left her to settle in.”

“Good, good. Let me know if she asks for anything.” Jim turned back to his own unpacking.

“Can I ask you a question boss?”

“I’ve been expecting it since we left England. You want to know why I brought her.”

“Well, yeah. At first I thought you were just going to kill her, but taking her with us? What’s your angle?” the sniper looked confused.

“I guess you could say I wanted a Watson of my own.” Jim chuckled.

“You’ve got me.” Sebastian scowled.

“Of course dear, but it’s not quite the same is it? You’re my faithful tiger but you can’t be with me all the time. Little Miss Hooper has nothing to do but keep me happy. I’m interested to see how she’ll react. How does someone like that adapt to this situation? I thought I knew our pathologist friend but she seems to have hidden depths I wish to explore.”

Sebastian looked like he still didn’t get it but he was always ready to accept Jim’s strange fancies. It was one of the sniper’s best qualities in Jim’s mind.

“Alright. Do you want me to cook?”

Jim scoffed. “Certainly not! I have just come back from the dead, Sebby! We must celebrate.”

“I’ll make reservations then. Did you have a time in mind?”

“Hmmm…eight.”

The ex-colonel nodded and slipped out, leaving Jim to set up his laptop. _Time to see what the press has to say about our lovely adventure._

 

Molly went through the entire laptop, but there was nothing on it but a few games and definitely no way to get online. Sebastian had promised books tomorrow, but she had gods knows how long until dinner and nothing to do other than marvel at the luxurious, very expensive clothes hanging in her new wardrobe. Apparently Jim had not been joking about taking care of her and in a spooky way, everything he’d bought looked like things she’d wear if she ever had the occasion _. Shouldn’t be so surprised, right? Sherlock always noticed that sort of thing_. She briefly considered curling up on the bed and just crying her eyes out, but she knew if she stopped to think about her situation she might never get up again and Jim Moriarty’s apartment was not the place to fall apart.

She mustered up her courage and opened her bedroom door. The main room was empty, Jim’s door still closed. She didn’t really want to know what he was doing in there but hopefully he was as tired from the flight as her and wouldn’t come out for a while. It gave her some time to explore the apartment. As far as she could see there were only the three bedrooms and the main one. No laundry but Jim seemed like the type who dry-cleaned everything anyway. No guest bathroom, but it was unlikely they were going to have any guests. The kitchen was already well-stocked, the contents ranging from local brands to the finest French truffles and a whole bar of spirits, complete with wine fridge. Sebastian was sitting at the coffee table, his gun in pieces on a red cloth as he used another to clean it. He smiled half-heartedly when he saw her.

“Hi.”

“Uh, hi. I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be out here.”

“Trying to escape?”

She laughed a touch hysterically. “Right! That would go really well for me I think.”

His smile turned a bit warmer. “You could always try. It would be entertaining.”

“I guess,” she decided to try and make some kind of conversation, “You were a sniper, yeah? Sherlock mentioned something once.”

“The best.”

She almost scoffed. “Sure.”

Sebastian shrugged. “S’true.”

He focused those blue eyes on Molly again and the doctor’s doubt faded.

“Sorry, is there…is there anything to well, do?”

“We didn’t have much time to prepare for you. There’s some books in that cabinet by the TV.”

“Thanks.” Molly crossed to look. She could hardly believe she was here having a civil conversation with Moriarty’s chief gunman, but then she’d never been able to be rude to people – even people who deserved it.

She gasped at the miracle that was Jim having all seven Harry Potter novels and scooped them off the shelf, figuring they’d keep her busy for a couple of days.

“Well, I’ll be in my room then.”

“We’re going out at quarter to eight. Dress nice.”

She nodded and scurried away with her armful of books.

*****

Molly got so enthralled in her reading it was half past seven before she knew it, and she ran to her closet in a mad panic. _Dress nice. How nice? Think, Molly. Dinner with Jim Moriarty – so somewhere expensive, probably small and discreet. Nothing too flashy_. She grabbed a long white sheath dress and tried to make her hair sit nicely. The shoes were a bit racier than she was used to, but there wasn’t a single pair of flats in the wardrobe. _Probably to keep me from running away_ , she snorted. If Jim expected her to live in heels all the time he was in for a shock.

“Ready Miss Hooper?” Sebastian knocked.

“Sure.”

She left her room at the same time as Jim, looking crisp as ever in a jet black suit.

“Very nice, Molly. Certainly an improvement on the neon t-shirts.”

She ignored him, turning to Sebastian. The sniper was still in his black casual gear.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” she frowned.

“He is, he just won’t get to sit and enjoy. Always work to do for Bastian.” Jim smiled, leading the way to the lift.

“Oh. That sucks.” Molly commiserated.

“I don’t mind. Better than listening to Jim’s dinner conversation.” The blond whispered conspiratorially and she giggled.

 

Molly was impressed with herself. Her guess had been spot on. The restaurant was tucked away inside what looked like an abandoned building, but opened into an almost Belle Époque cabaret lounge atmosphere. There was a band surrounded by thick crimson velvet curtains, and the small round tables were dotted around an open dance floor. Sebastian peeled away from them and sat in the corner by the front door, while Jim and Molly got a table closer to the stage.

“Charming, isn’t it?”

“Very posh.” She conceded as if the words hurt her teeth.

“Don’t look so glum, Molly. We’re supposed to be having fun!”

“Forgive me if I haven’t quite adjusted to being abducted as your plaything just yet.”

The waiter came over and poured champagne for them, so Jim couldn’t reply. He wiggled his brows at her instead.

“Like the clothes? I had to send out for them. I wasn’t expecting company when Sebastian arranged our retreat.”

Molly looked uncertain. “He said something about…that I could get books?”

“Course. I don’t want you to be bored! I work such long hours sometimes. You’ll have lots of free time. You could study a new specialty or learn a language or something. It will be funny to watch your progress.”

Her mouth tightened. “I’m sorry we can’t all be geniuses.”

He looked up from the menu, eyes bright. “Thank you. No one’s really apologised for that before.”

“Ugh!” she took a much larger gulp of champagne than she’d meant to. _Good one Molly, no possible reason you might need your wits about you in this situation_. But then she decided she might as well get drunk – she couldn’t get away no matter what, so she might as well use Moriarty’s money to help her forget for a few hours how utterly screwed she was.

 

He ordered for them in Czech and she glanced wistfully at Sebastian sitting across the room. He was rough and slightly scary, but he was friendlier than Jim.

“Don’t get too attached to Bastian. He sticks with me.”

She turned back to Jim worriedly. “I wasn’t – I mean-”

“I heard your little bonding session earlier. It’s good: I want you to be happy with us Molly. But Sebastian is an essential part of my organisation, and he can’t babysit you all the time. Your protection is arriving in the morning.”

“My protection? Why not just call it my keeper and be done with it?”

“Because he is for your protection.”

She laughed. “And who do I possibly need protection from except you?”

“I don’t know, all the other people that want me dead? My list of enemies is longer than just Sherlock, you know. If certain people were to see you living with me, they might think you important enough to attack.”

He said it so casually, but she felt like the blood had frozen in her veins.

“You’re going to kill me.”

Jim sneered. “Nonsense.”

“You are. I only left London with you because I didn’t want to die, but one way or another you’ll get me anyway.”

“Molly,” he said with a sigh, as if she was a child who’d disappointed him, “Don’t be so morbid. I told you, I’ll look after you. Severin is the second best in all of Europe.”

“Severin?”

“Bastian’s brother. And damn good at what he does, though a bit rash for my liking. That’s why I only bring him in for the special jobs.”

Molly wasn’t sure why, but the knowledge that her watcher was Sebastian’s brother cheered her up a little bit. Maybe he would be sort of nice too.

“I’m a special job?” she blurted, instantly hating herself.

Jim looked amused. “Indeed. Would you like some more champagne, dear?”

 

Dinner was delicious, and thankfully the band gave way to some enthusiastic dancers so she didn’t have to talk to Jim for a while. She’d had the better part of three glasses and the room was starting to feel quite warm, the tension slipping from her muscles. She could almost pretend she was just on a normal date. The dancers took their bow and left, and people began to pair up on the empty floor.

“How about it, Molly? Shall we dance?”

“I-I can’t dance like that.” She gaped at the graceful figures swaying past their table.

“Fortunately I can,” Jim stood and took her hand, “Come on.”

She let him pull her into his arms, even though it was weird, even though she felt dizzy, even though the heels gave them a major height difference. She couldn’t help thinking with Sherlock their eyes would have been level. Instead she was looking down at the consulting criminal as he led her around with as much poise as she could muster in her current state.

“See? Easy.” Jim grinned.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, leaning further into his supporting hands.

“Why not?” he twirled her, “You know Sherlock. I used you as an excuse to see him. To test him. I didn’t need to, I could have done it a hundred other ways, but it amused me to see how much you were in love with him. It was a test for both of you I guess.”

“I knew this was about him. It’s always about him.” She shook her head, a little dazed.

“You misunderstand. You know Sherlock, how he lives for the chase. I’m just the same. I need _new_ , Molly. Always something new.”

“So what happens when you get bored of me?”

He stilled, holding her up. “I suggest you find ways to keep me interested.”

*****

Molly’s memory of the ride back to the apartment was blurry, but she managed to undress herself this time she was sure. Her head felt like it had been attacked with a meat hammer. _So it turns out no matter how expensive the booze, the hangover still feels just as seedy_. She rolled over with a moan and cracked one eyelid. The curtains were closed thankfully, but the clock on her bedside table said ten. There was a glass of water and two painkillers on the table and she swallowed them gratefully without questioning the fact someone had been in her room. _It’s not like it matters_.

She dragged herself out of bed, determined not to stay there wallowing in her agony. The medicine started to kick in and she was able to shower without throwing up. _Food. Food is important_. She wrapped herself in a warm red jumper and blue jeans and pattered barefoot into the kitchen. But her plan failed as another wave of nausea had her leaning against the fridge door.

“Need some help?”

She looked up quickly and cursed as her head reeled. The speaker could have been Sebastian really; everything about his figure and face was identical. But there was something completely foreign in the way he stood, the slight smirk. He seemed much more relaxed, though she had no doubt he could kill her in sixteen different ways at any second.

“Could you knock me unconscious? That would be a big help.”

“Sorry, Moriarty said I was supposed to keep you in one piece. He might not take it too well if I damage you.”

“You could say I asked for it.” Molly smiled weakly.

“Can’t be done. But I can get you something for that, if you’ll sit.”

She frowned and then thought better of it, stumbling over to the stool by the island.

“What, you’re not just my bodyguard? You’re my nursemaid too?”

He didn’t take offence, ignoring her grouchiness as he grabbed pans and grinning as she winced at the clanging.

“Bastian and I are both great cooks. You learn in the army to do the best with what you’ve got. So while it’s not on the official list of duties, it’s an unspoken requirement to keep you hearty and hale and fed. How do you like your eggs?”

She blinked for a moment. “Scrambled.”

 

The blond was a strange figure in his khaki pants and tight white shirt, slicing mushrooms with a precision that startled even her – and Molly was no slouch with a knife.

“So you were in the army?”

“Seb and me both. I didn’t last as long as him though. Too many rules.” He gave her another cheeky grin.

Jim’s bedroom door opened and the man himself came out in a spotless white shirt and grey slacks. He had his sleeves rolled up and looked almost casual.

“I thought I heard someone mouthing off. Welcome back, Sev.”

“Hi boss. You need breakfast too?”

“No. How’s your head, Molly?”

She tried to look at him and caught sight of herself in the big mirror. She was a sight, face red and puffy, mouth slack.

“Why don’t you tell me, clever clogs?”

Severin giggled. “Oh I like her.”

Jim smiled wryly. “Indeed. Well, when Miss Hooper is feeling better, you’re taking her shopping Sev. I believe she expressed a wish for things to do.”

“Too easy.” Severin tossed the bacon in a pan.

“What will you be doing?” Molly asked, more to be polite than with any real curiosity.

“Establishing my presence. If you’re very good for Sev, I might give you some details later. We can make it a game and see how well you’ve studied Sherlock’s techniques.”

“Great.” She grimaced.

Jim laughed as he headed back into his room. “Ah, Molly. I’m enjoying this already.”

*****

Breakfast only made her sleepy, but after a nap she felt much better. Severin gave her another painkiller and bundled her downstairs into a car, smiling amiably the whole time though his gaze swept their surroundings constantly. They got out at a reasonably busy shopping district, the car idling against the kerb.

“Alright. Let’s start with a bookshop, shall we?”

He gripped her arm loosely as they walked through the crowd, but she didn’t think it was to stop her escaping. Severin was even easier to be around than Sebastian. He just seemed too happy-go-lucky to be a cold killer, with none of that sense of barely-contained violence she got from his twin. He guided her to a large book store, part of an English chain by the look of the sign. She hadn’t even considered the difficulty of getting English books in Prague but apparently it wasn’t that hard. He gently pushed her inside and scanned the space before nodding.

“Well, you can start picking.”

Molly looked up at him curiously, deciding to test a theory. “What’s my limit?”

“There isn’t one. We’ll have them carried back to the car if it’s more than we can manage.” He shrugged.

“No, I meant pricewise.”

He just smirked. “There isn’t one.”

She shook her head. “Why is Moriarty spending so much on me? He could get bored in a week and throw me off a bridge.”

Severin shrugged. “The money doesn’t mean much to him. He can always just make more. He’s not really in this racket for the profits.”

That made sense. It still felt strange, like she was a trophy wife let loose with the credit cards. But Molly decided to take the opportunity with both hands and grabbed a basket.

“Alright then. You can carry them for me. Where’s the biology section?”

 

Two hours and four baskets later Molly decided that was enough for one day. As they headed to the counter to pay, she looked up at Severin.

“So where are you staying?”

“The room next to yours. I’m on hand to serve your every desire.” He said melodramatically.

“But that’s Sebastian’s room.” Molly frowned.

Severin snorted and looked at her askance. “Seriously? Did he tell you that?”

“Well, yeah.”

Sev laughed again and she scowled. “Hey, I’m new around here, okay?”

“Sorry Miss Hooper, just…Bastian stays in the boss’ room.”

“What?”

“Well it makes sense. Moriarty barely uses his bed and with Seb in it he’s on hand if there’s a threat. Plus Bastian likes to be around so he can fuss over the boss and make him get some sleep. He seriously told you he was sleeping in the other room?”

“I guess he didn’t want me to assume anything was…you know. Going on between them.”

Sev shrugged. “Only sometimes.”

“What!”

The salesgirl stopped in the middle of scanning their books and Molly smiled at her apologetically.

“Sebastian and Moriarty are-are…boyfriends?” she hissed.

“God no! They just fuck sometimes. Helps with the stress of running all those schemes I think.”

“Sherlock said he was gay.” Molly mused aloud, still in shock.

“The boss is more what you’d call…open to new experiences. He’s not gay or straight.”

She dropped her voice even lower. “Have you ever...”

“Nope. That’s Bastian’s thing. No doubt he’d love to have us both at the same time but it’s not our style. I haven’t blown your mind, have I?”

She just shook her head. “I’m too hungover for this conversation.”

“Then let’s find you something horribly greasy to take the edge off.”

 

Their purchases beat them back to the apartment and Molly immediately started putting things on the empty shelves. It made the room seem more like hers, and she felt almost content when she’d finished. Sev stuck his head in with dinner.

“We’re not eating out tonight?” she frowned as she took the bowl of pasta.

“Boss got tickets for the opera.”

“The opera?” she looked up almost eagerly.

“Yeah. Treasure these outings, sweet, because once he really gets involved in his work here the fine dining will be on hiatus.”

He left her to find an outfit. She’d already noticed the handful of evening gowns when she was unpacking, all in various labels she’d seen on movie stars. Molly picked a long navy strapless dress and a white shawl. There were some long white gloves but she didn’t think she could pull them off. Happy with her choice she wolfed down her dinner and changed quickly. The boys were already waiting in the kitchen when she came out, all three looking dapper in their tuxes.

“Very nice.” Sev leered.

“Severin, put your tongue back in your mouth,” Jim snapped, “Not the fur wrap?”

“I don’t believe in skinning animals for fashion.” Molly stuck her nose up.

“You really should, they’re divinely warm. But if you’d rather freeze so be it. Come along.”

Molly expected them to take the car again but instead Moriarty headed down the street with Sebastian looking around warily at his side.

“We’re walking?” she squeaked, looking at the ridiculous silver heels she’d picked out.

“S’not far. I’ll help.” Sev offered his arm.

She took it hesitantly but was glad when a moment later she slipped on the cobblestones.

“Definitely buying some new shoes tomorrow.” She muttered darkly.

She glanced ahead at Jim, who seemed to be enjoying his stroll. He gazed around at people as they passed, looking relaxed and entirely too innocent. She could almost forget who he really was.

“This is going to be so fun, Molly. I’m going to expand your mind beyond _Glee_ and show you some real music.” His voice carried back.

 _Almost_.

 

The opera house wasn’t that far away after all. It was an amazing old building, like so many others of the city. Molly had to admit it was a nice place to be held captive. They made their way through the lobby slowly, giving Jim time to scan the crowd for potential clients and competition.

“Always working, my dear. Never waste an opportunity.”

He had a private box of course, just left of centre in the dress circle. Molly breathed a sigh of relief at the screen positioned either side of the stage. _Subtitles – excellent_. Jim positioned her next to him, the Morans behind. His hand snaked over and gripped hers.

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying your company. Now shut up before you ruin it with that babbling.”

She stiffened as he squeezed her fingers, but it was only for a moment and not too hard. She turned towards the stage still feeling confused and surprised, and a little embarrassed the twins got to watch Moriarty toying with her. The overture finished and the curtain opened, but all she could think about was the warm hand in hers. She couldn’t focus on the stage at all. _Calm down, Molly. He said keep him happy. Try and relax_. _Yeah right_.

Jim giggled to himself at Molly shifting uncomfortably in her seat. He’d guessed she wouldn’t be able to concentrate but this was amazing _. She’s really that nervous because of some hand-holding? I’d love to see what she’d do if I kissed her. Maybe I’ll try later_. The opera was alright, the performers excellent, but really he’d picked it for the effect it would have on his companions. Neither Moran was capable of sitting in that box for a whole two hours, Sebastian because he didn’t like to be still unless he was working, and Severin because he just didn’t like opera. Jim estimated it would take fifteen minutes for them to start fidgeting and then he’d have an excuse to punish Bastian later. Molly was the real interest though. As ‘Jim from I.T.’ he’d suffered through some terrible TV for her; now he wanted to see how she’d handle the tragedy of _La Traviata_. He squeezed her hand again and laughed at the twitch in her face before turning back to the performance.

 

At interval Molly turned to Jim, flushed.

“I um, I need to...”

“Sev will go with you. Bring us back some drinks won’t you Sevvie?”

The assassin nodded and held the door open for her. Jim almost chuckled at the way she flexed her fingers, sore from being held tense.

“How are you holding up, Bastian?”

“S’great, boss.” The sniper said carefully.

“Really? Don’t want to call it an early night?”

“Nope.”

Jim raised a brow as he smiled. “You really want to sit here for another hour?”

Bastian’s eye twitched. “Sure.”

“Tut tut, baby. You have to lie better than that to fool me. Alright, we’ll go home.”

Sebastian looked at him suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“Who said there was one?” Jim said lightly.

“There’s always a catch with you.”

“Alright. How about, we leave now and I get to do whatever I want with you for an hour at home?”

Sebastian blanched a bit. “What about Hooper?”

“She’ll survive. She was barely paying attention in the first half anyway.”

Jim fluttered his lashes prettily and Sebastian sighed. “Fine.”

“Good boy! Let’s go collect the others, hmm?”

 

Molly couldn’t be more confused. They’d gone to the opera but only stayed for an hour; Jim’d held her hand for some strange reason but was now in his room with Sebastian, making disgustingly loud noises. She felt bad for Severin, who was after all Bastian’s brother and a whole room closer to the action. _But then he probably doesn’t get embarrassed about it_ , she huffed, tossing her covers about as she tried to ignore the moaning.

The other thing bothering her was that for a guy who’d said he wanted her company, she barely saw Jim. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it really. _I should be glad, but it’s all really confusing_. _Maybe I should stop trying to figure him out_. The banging and yelling was louder now and she scowled at the wall. _For all I know this is just another of his games, trying to bother me_.

She buried her face in the pillow and forced herself to think of anything other than Moriarty. _Sherlock. Does he know I’m gone? Surely someone at the hospital’s noticed. They’re missing a couple of bodies too. John would raise the alarm_. But reality quashed that line of thought. Nobody believed John anymore; he was a friend of the disgraced detective. Sherlock couldn’t come looking for her without blowing his cover and the St Bart’s people probably just thought she was taking time off to grieve. She was alone. _Eventually someone will notice I’m gone – but even if they did, how would they find me?_ For the first time since they left England, she let herself feel the weight of her situation. She was far from home in the clutches of a madman with no hope of rescue. Molly curled onto her side and let herself cry.

The next day she couldn’t meet Sebastian’s eye in the kitchen. Sev threw her a lusty wink and she could feel herself blushing like an idiot.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days were so routine it almost felt like a normal holiday. Jim shut himself up in his room, evidently thick in the middle of something. Molly read or went on excursions with Sev, sometimes shopping, sometimes sightseeing. He didn’t speak Czech either but he knew German and between that and broken English they got by. Severin was not really big on culture but he trailed around behind her through a couple of galleries and museums without too much complaining.

She tried to cook for them one night when Jim was still holed up, but the result was so terrible she was banned from the kitchen. With Sebastian at a loose end without his boss to follow around they ended up most nights sitting on the couch watching movies. The Morans, surprisingly, disliked action because they felt it was too unrealistic. She felt the same about horror. War was totally out. So they settled for thrillers and spy fics, and Molly told herself it was better than trying to entertain Jim.

Besides, she was starting to really like the twins. They were always the most intimidating figures wherever they went, two tall, broad blondes with a serious way of holding themselves and very large muscles. They were both handsome, though Bastian had a certain hardness to his expression that promised a fight, an intensity his brother didn’t have. His blonde hair was cropped shorter too. Sev could be deadly serious when it was needed but the rest of the time he was a joker while Sebastian wore his prowess like a cloak - quietly. It was in his hands as they lay idly on the table and his face when he listened to a story.  Molly found herself grateful she’d never seen him let that side out.

*****

On the fourth night of not seeing Moriarty Molly was woken by the front door slamming open. Someone in the main room cursed and she sat up, heart hammering. She could hear Severin’s door open and footsteps, and crept carefully to her door before opening it just a crack. Sebastian swayed in the kitchen, blood clotted on his face and hands, shirt ripped. His brother was lowering a gun.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Bar fight. Some guy took offence to my face. Had to get out before the cops showed up.”

“So you came in here looking like that? Lucky the boss is working.”

Sebastian waved an arm dismissively and stumbled. “S’fine. I just need a bit of patching up.”

Molly stepped out into the main room. “Do you need some help?”

Both boys looked up.

“Eh! It’s Molly. You look nice.” Bastian squinted.

She tugged at her satin nightgown shyly. “They’re the only pyjamas I have.”

“I can keep him quiet if you can clean his wounds.” Severin said.

“Is there a first aid kit?”

“Under the sink.” The blond nodded in the general direction as he helped Sebastian to the island.

Molly hurried over and grabbed it. She almost whistled before remembering how late it was. _This is not your average kit_. She raised a brow at Sev and he shrugged.

“We’re not exactly office workers, Moll.”

She washed her hands, opening a pack of gloves. “Can you take his shirt off?”

Sebastian cackled. “Dying to get me naked hey? Everyone always is.”

“Shut up drunkie, and let the lady fix you up.” Sev’s hands were gentler than his tone as he stripped off jacket and shirt.

Molly winced. There were shallow cuts across Sebastian’s chest and shoulder. His knuckles were cracked and his face was already swelling on one side.

“Geez, Bastian. Get yourself kicked by a horse?” Sev shook his head.

“You should see the other guy.”

“Alright. I’m going to rinse the wounds. Did you want something for the pain?”

Bastian just smiled at her. “Don’t need it, darlin’. Can barely feel my toes right now.”

She worked quickly, cleaning off the cuts and scrapes and picking out the small bits of glass. The sink was soon covered in red but Sebastian looked as happy as ever, smiling at her goofily while Sev held him still.

“I never knew you were a doctor.”

“Pathologists have to do some medical study too. Otherwise how would we know which bits are which?” she joked.

There was only one gash that needed stitches and though she’d had more practice on autopsies Molly thought she did okay.

“Better sleep in my room tonight, tiger. I’ll take the couch.” Sev helped him across the kitchen.

Molly cleaned up, tipping everything into a plastic bag to be thrown out later and sterilising her tools in the sink. Sev came back out with his blanket as she was finishing.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to.” She shrugged.

He gave her a curious look. “You’re an odd bird. No wonder the boss likes you.”

He headed for the couch, leaving her with a strange fuzzy feeling. Blinking it off, she headed back to bed.

 

“Come in!”

The door opened on a very sheepish Sebastian. He was clutching his stomach and she sat up.

“Hi. How are you this morning?”

“Feel like death but I’m used to that. It’s the cold looks from Jim that bother me more.”

“He’s mad at you?”

“Doesn’t like me risking an injury when I’m supposed to be working for him. He’ll get over it in a day or two, always does. I don’t remember much but Sev told me you cleaned me up, and I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh. It was nothing really.”

“No, it was decent of you. I’m sure you did a better job than Sev would have, sadistic bastard that he is.”

“Well then, you’re welcome I guess.”

He nodded stiffly and left. Molly frowned for a moment and shrugged. It never hurt to be in an assassin’s good books. Plus she did like Sebastian when he wasn’t being all scary and formidable. She went back to her book feeling like she’d done them both a favour.

*****

It was raining dismally and Molly decided to curl up on the couch with some popcorn and watch a good drama, since both twins were otherwise occupied and wouldn’t complain. She ignored Jim’s closed door, so used to it being shut now that she barely remembered the mastermind was still inside. As far as she knew, no one had been in to check on him for five days now. _How does he eat? Does he sneak out when we’re all asleep?_ _Shouldn’t I be more thankful he’s not out here tormenting me?_

But she was only about five minutes into the movie when quiet shuffling footsteps made her turn.  Jim was standing a little way from his door. He looked _shattered_. He was more casual than she’d ever seen him in a black tee and boxer shorts, hair sticking up wildly like he’d been tugging at it. His bulging eyes were even more pronounced by thick purple circles and he stared at her as if he couldn’t see her, mouth slack and eyes distant.

“Jim?” she shifted uncertainly.

He blinked as if he didn’t recognise her. “Yes?”

“Um, are you...okay?”

“Fine.”

They were quiet, the genius still staring as she frowned at him worriedly.

“Have you eaten? There’s some leftover steak in the fridge.”

“Can’t eat.” He just shook his head.

“Well, maybe you should try napping. You look worn out.”

His eyes glinted dangerously when he looked at her. “I’m fine.”

“Alright!”

“I don’t want to go in there just yet.”

“Alright. Do you want to watch this with me?” _What am I saying? Stupid need to take care of people!_

Jim glanced at the screen and scoffed. “This? Completely predictable and trite, no real emotion or intrigue.”

She shrugged, not offended. She hadn’t really expected him to be interested in _Romeo + Juliet_. She wasn’t even sure why she’d picked it since it was hardly a feel-good film, but she liked the scene at the party and she’d figured it was too girly to watch with Sev and Bastian.

“Still, it has some fun references. And I thought you found my taste in entertainment amusing.”

He smiled and padded over to the couch. “Alright. I suppose I have been neglecting you these last few days. I’ll humour you.”

 

He sat very close to her. She tried not to show how much his nearness unsettled her – although if she was honest, this Jim didn’t really frighten her much. He was too tired to be scary.

“So what were you working on?” she offered him popcorn.

The question was exactly the sort Jim loved since it was all about his cleverness. It was distracting enough that he reached into the bowl absentmindedly.

“Orchestrating the trafficking of human slaves across Uzbekistan.”

He turned and took in her perfectly round gaping mouth and shrugged.

“What? You asked.”

“That’s horrible!”

“If I didn’t do it, someone else would.” Jim wrinkled his nose.

“You’ve got all this potential for good and you use it for rubbish! Between you and Sherlock you could cure world hunger or end all crime and war but instead you just ruin people’s lives!” Molly erupted.

Jim considered the pathologist. She was breathing heavily, her face red but whether from anger or embarrassment he couldn’t quite tell. She was regarding him with a growing expression of fear, like he was going to snap over the insult.

“You’re right. But Sherlock only uses his to stop a handful of petty criminals, so he’s not much better.”

She was visibly startled by his non-reaction; more so when he took another handful of popcorn and turned back to the movie.

“Any truly original adaptation of Shakespeare is impossible.”

“Oh?” she asked.

“Yes. People are too easily influenced by the idea of adaptation. They think it means they should play with setting or character. Let’s make them black! Let’s switch everyone’s gender! Let’s make it happen in ancient Rome, and Juliet will be a senator’s daughter! It’s the same story told over and over. History already repeats itself without art doing it too.”

“Don’t you think you can use a change in setting to explore different issues in the text? Ones that might not have been relevant when it was written?”

“Then write a new text. Don’t force Shakespeare to give you a commentary about something he’d never encountered – if he had, he would have written it himself and better.”

They ate quietly after that, watching Romeo go through the party in his drugged state. Molly had always like that feeling of chaos the scene evoked, though she’d never been brave enough to try it herself. She wondered if Jim had. He seemed like the type to experiment.

“Have you ever done that?” she looked over.

The genius was sound asleep, head on the back of the couch. Molly smiled and put her feet up on the cushion, wrapping her arms around her legs as she watched.

 

 _Romeo + Juliet_ had finished and she was halfway through _Moulin Rouge_ when Sebastian came in.

“Urgh. What is this?” he screwed up his face.

“Shh! You’ll wake him.”

Sebastian rounded the couch and noticed his boss passed out beside her.

“Finally. Thought I was going to have to drag him out of there and deal with the consequences later.”

“He was a bit off.” She agreed.

“How did you manage to get him here watching that?” Bastian flicked his head at the telly.

“I flattered his ego.” She smiled.

“Ha! You catch on quick. Alright, I’ll leave you both to it. He’ll be ravenous when he wakes up.”

*****

They spent the next day strolling and shopping. Molly wanted some practical shoes and Jim wanted to pick them out for her, but mostly he seemed to want her to guess at people on the street and laugh when she read them all wrong.

“Oh Molly! No wonder you didn’t get that Sherlock would never be interested. You’re truly an appalling judge of character.”

“Well I must be, since I’d forgotten how awful you are.” She pouted.

“Sorry. I’m sure you knew, you just couldn’t help how you felt. I don’t blame you; he is rather sexy with that big ol’ brain.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you being nice?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

That seemed to be the only explanation for his behaviour. Whether he was cold or friendly or amusing or serious, it always seemed to be because he could. Jim’s moods changed without warning, and the best she or the Morans could do was tread lightly and then dive for cover if it turned sour. Jim Moriarty was nothing like Jim from I.T, except that sometimes he was kind, sometimes he was funny and he was always thoughtful if not considerate. He cared about Molly – what she did, what she thought, what she needed. She should have felt like a lab rat being studied but it was sort of lovely to forget for a moment how crappy her life was and just pretend they were two friends on a trip to Prague. She ignored whatever Jim was arranging in his room; it was better not to know.

Two weeks passed without incident and Molly started to feel a little less cagey. Surely she wasn’t going to be tortured or killed now. Jim must have been sincere when he said all he wanted her company. She was getting a decent handle on very basic Czech, enough that she could say hello and thank you when they went out. She’d been pouring over her new textbooks too, staying up to date on her professional knowledge. Truthfully she didn’t mind being away from work, but she knew eventually she’d go crazy if all she did was laze around the apartment.

 

In the middle of the third week she lay on her bed wishing she had the Internet, or even just a phone, so she could see what was going on back home. The local papers were useless. She was vaguely hoping someone had noticed her missing so Toby wouldn’t starve, when there was a smash from the main room followed by shouting. It was a real mark of how comfortable she’d become in the house that she opened the door rather than locking it as she probably should.

Jim was destroying the kitchen. Literally smashing the doors and glass with a frypan, shattering all the crockery, proper Viking-style destroying it. He was screaming something at Sebastian, who stood to one side unworriedly. Severin hadn’t even moved off the couch. Molly couldn’t tell if they were used to this sort of tantrum or trying not to attract any extra attention.

“How dare he? I spend days tasking myself on the perfect plan and not only does the stupid little shit try to stiff me on my commission, but he then deviates from my instructions and fucks it all up!”

There was more smashing and clattering and Molly flinched, pulling the door closer so only her face stuck out.

“I ask you Sebastian, I ask you, what’s the point? Why shouldn’t I just burn the whole lot of them out and run this place myself!”

“Sounds like a good idea boss.” The sniper said, staring intently at his nails.

Jim turned and she finally got a look at his face. It was wild, contorted into some twisted mockery by his anger. His suit was still impeccable though, only making him look fiercer by comparison. His eyes were easily the most terrifying thing Molly had ever seen, wide and insane and hateful. She drew back further into her room but couldn’t look away.

“You two are going to take care of this!” He threw the toaster in a spray of metal parts over the floor.

“Any requests boss?”

“I want to see it. I want to hear him writhing as you rip the bones out of his fingers!”

“Right away.”

The two assassins peeled off, casting cautious looks behind them as they left the apartment. Without his audience Jim seemed to calm down, leaning on the island as he panted. He reached into his pocket with a shaky hand and pulled out his phone.

“Oh, and Sebastian darling? Send a cleanup crew for the mess I’ve just made. Thank youuu.”

 

Molly was rattled. She just wanted to shut the door and hide under her bed. _How did I forget Moriarty was stark raving mad?_ She put her hand on the knob to close it and his head snapped up.

“Molly. Stop hiding and come over here please.”

She took a breath and considered just locking the door on him.

“Sebastian’s got more than one gun, you know. If I have to drag you out of there I will.”

 _Great_. She opened the door slowly and took a step out.

“Good girl. Mind your feet. I seem to have let my emotions get the better of me for a moment.”

She gave him a sceptical look. “Really?”

The snarky comment was out before she could stop it and she froze, but Jim didn’t seem to mind. He swung himself up on the counter and motioned her closer.

“Have I frightened you back into that mouse you were before the fall, Molly? Shame. I was starting to enjoy your little quips.”

“Are you really going to have a man’s fingers ripped out?” she asked meekly as she reached his elbow.

“Yes but he’s a bad man, so I’m doing the world a favour really.”

“Wha-what did he do?”

“He reneged on our dealings. Some people are so treacherous, Mollikins.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jim started laughing, giggling so hard he was bent over at the waist. Molly took a step back just in case.

“You’re a very odd person Molly Hooper, did you know that? You can’t help but be nice to people, even people you hate, even ones you should be afraid of.”

“Should I? Be afraid of you, I mean.”

Her eyes were big, open, honest. Jim raised a hand and ran his thumb over her lip and she stiffened but didn’t move away.

“Probably. But you don’t need to worry for the moment.”

“That’s not very comforting.” She chuckled hollowly.

“What did you expect, a hug and a lollipop?”

 

Jim jumped down, glass crushing under his shoes.

“So the boys are out hunting. They won’t be back for a while. It’s up to you to keep my spirits light now, Molly.”

“What did you have in mind?” she eyed the kitchen with trepidation.

“Let’s go out!” he clapped his hands.

“Without the Morans? Is that a good idea? I mean if something goes wrong and this guy gets away, he might come looking for you.”

“I have other protection. I just prefer Bastian.”

“Um, okay. Where do you want to go?”

“I want a drink and a dance. Go put your glad rags on, Molly.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, kiddies: here there be smut

Jim headed into his bedroom and left Molly to marvel at the abrupt change in mood. She grabbed a dress she’d been dying to wear, something similar to what she’d worn for Sherlock that Christmas but in a shocking red. There was makeup in the bathroom she’d ignored up til now, but she found a lipstick in the same shade and used just the tiniest hint of eyeliner. _It’s sort of liberating not having to worry about a purse_ , she mused. Truly she’d had nothing to carry since they got to Prague, since one of the others always paid for everything and carried the keys. It was a weird feeling at first, like she was walking around naked, but she liked it now. _Less to worry about_.

By the time she came out, Jim had changed into a black shirt. His pants were the same but he’d lost the jacket and tie.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep.”

They took the lift down and as they crossed the lobby a man in a suit stood up and followed them. He was totally non-descript in looks, just an ordinary brunette.

“Our protection?” Molly whispered.

“For tonight.”

They got into the waiting car and drove about 700 metres.

“We’re here!” Jim smiled.

Molly frowned. “That’s it? We could have walked.”

“Yes, but unlike Severin I am not going to hold you up on your shoes. The car seemed safer.”

“You bought them for me.” She stuck her tongue out.

“I did, and I’m thrilled at my own excellent taste. Come along dear.”

 

The club was like something from a movie: loud, crowded and dark with glowing neon paint on the fixtures and a heavy electronic beat. Moriarty led them straight over to a set of stairs by the stage. A thick-necked bouncer stood at the bottom.

“Name?”

“Milos Arshan.”

“You’re not on the list.”

“Not yet, but I will be.” Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash. He peeled off the top three notes and handed them to the doorman.

“Alright. Go on up.”

The VIP room was breathtaking. Not only did it give a view of the whole club, but everyone inside was gorgeous and way, way richer than anyone Molly had ever met in real life before. _Except Jim of course._ It was also a bit quieter, enough that people could actually talk. They took a seat on a couch in the corner, their guard standing to one side carefully.

“So who am I tonight, _Milos_?” she teased.

“Who do you want to be?”

“Not Molly.” She said flatly.

“Done. How about...Stefania?”

“Stefania?”

“Your mother was Italian. Stefania and Milos Arshan. We’re Russian newlyweds honeymooning in Prague. I work for your father’s oil business and you dabble in adultery.”

She laughed. “Like anyone would believe I was Russian.”

Jim smiled. “You grew up with your mother in England, went to Cambridge. Explains the accent.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t you know dear, I’m fluent in most European languages?” he said, followed by a torrent in what sounded like Russian to her uneducated ear.

“Alright! What else?”

It was fun listening to Jim create characters for them from the ground up. She’d never doubted he was clever but the way he listed even the smallest details of their new personas was amazing. It took him half a minute to map out completely new life stories for them both, and he told them with a certain flair. A waiter came over to take their order and Jim turned to her.

“Cocktails, I think,” he said in a Russian accent, “Can you do a sweet martini?”

“Of course sir.”

Molly at least waited until he’d walked away before she giggled. “Very nice. You could have been an actor.”

Jim smiled almost sadly for a second before perking up. “I am.”

 

The cocktails were good but the company was better. Jim showed no trace of that irrational fury she’d seen only an hour ago. He was at his most charming, flattering her at every turn and telling funny anecdotes about Sebastian and Severin. Molly knew she should be warier since nothing Jim said could be taken at face value, but she was happy to have a few drinks and soak it in. _Who cares if he doesn’t mean it? It’s nice_.

Jim reached into his pocket and drew out a little pillbox.

“Not-Molly, how do you feel about having an adventure?”

“Why do I feel like I’m Alice and you’re the White Rabbit?” she pursed her lips.

“Maybe you’re the Queen of Hearts and I’m the Mad Hatter.” He grinned.

He opened the box and held out two tiny blue pills.

“I don’t know.” Molly bit her lip.

“Dearest, you’re in the VIP room of a top club in Prague with Europe’s foremost criminal genius. What is the worst that could happen?”

She shot him a doubtful look but took the pill and placed it on her tongue. She washed it down with a swig of martini and coughed. Jim patted her back with a laugh.

“Very good. My turn.”

He downed his dry and smiled. Molly fancied it was something like the big bad wolf.

“Shall we dance?”

He led her downstairs to the pounding, gyrating mass on the dance floor. Molly found it hard to imagine Moriarty letting loose like that. It wasn’t really her thing either, but she’d had a few drinks and was willing to have a go. Jim tugged her over to a less cramped corner and pulled her close, her heels making it so his face rested in the crook of her neck. His hands closed around her waist as he moved them, completely ignoring the rhythm of the actual music.

“How long until it kicks in?” Molly shouted in his ear.

“Don’t think about it! Just let it happen.”

She snorted _. If I can let Jim Moriarty put his hands on me, I can do anything_.

 

Jim loved drugs, loved the freedom they gave him from being him, even for a short while. He would never become an addict the way Sherlock had though – that was too ordinary. But the sensation of music and movement and feeling all coming together louder than thought, that was something he needed on occasion. He grinned up at Molly manically. They’d been dancing for about half an hour and she thought she might be starting to feel it. Molly giggled at the sudden rush of happiness warm in her chest and throat. They sped up a little, twisting and shaking to the beat now.

“You look funny.”

“You do.” He tapped her in the chest.

“I could use some water.”

“Back upstairs then?”

She nodded and took his offered hand, letting him push their way through the crowd as she followed foggily. The doorman at the VIP room stairs waved them through straight away and they found their couch still empty, Jim’s man standing near it warily and running his eyes over the club below. They collapsed onto the leather cushions and Molly suddenly realised how puffed she was.

“That was good. You’re a great dancer.”

“Mollikins, I’m great at _evvvvvverything_.” Jim laughed.

“You are, you know. Sherlock was always really impressed with you and he’s the best.”

“Isn’t he though? Pulling off that trick with you last minute? Amazing!”

“No, you’re the amazing one,” Molly tucked her feet up on the seat and leaned closer, “You actually know how to talk to people. I can’t do that.”

“You’re talking to me right now.” Jim smirked.

“Oh, hush!” she shoved him in the chest with a giggle.

“No, but you are. And you talk to Bastian, and Sev. Most people are terrified of them.”

“But they’ve been so nice to me...all of you have,” Molly gulped, “Why?”

Jim reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why not?”

“There’s lots of reasons why not. I’m not very pretty, I’m not very clever. I say the stupidest things sometimes, actually. I’m not impressive like you.”

“No, you’re not. But you are lovely all the same.”

Molly’s eyes flickered over the pouty lips smiling at her, the dark eyes fixed on her face. She felt like this was one of the best nights of her life. Everything was beautiful; there were no ugly problems or moral concerns anymore. Jim was just a great, smart, cute ordinary guy – and he was great, wasn’t he?

“Can I kiss you?”

“Sure!”

She took his face tentatively in her hands, astonished by how soft his skin felt, and drew him forward until their lips touched gently for a second.

“Wow. You feel so warm.” Molly tittered.

“Can _I_ kiss _you_ now?”

 

She nodded happily and Jim’s grin turned a bit leery. His eyes burned into hers. _How is that possible? They’re so black, like space. They should be cold._ Molly reached out a hand to touch them, just to see if they were cold. Jim grabbed her wrist and wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her flush against him. She almost moaned at how good his shirt felt against her bare arms but then his mouth was on hers and she had no breath for moaning. Jim’s keen tongue swept over her lips and she parted them to let him in, the wet swirling whirlpool of their mouths almost hypnotising. She couldn’t think of anything else, though her brain was bombarded with sensations. Molly clung to the criminal as an anchor, the one solid thing in her arms that felt better than anything in the world, and threw herself into the kiss. When the pressure got too much and her lungs were screaming she pulled away with a gasp.

“See? Good at everything.” Jim looked very pleased with himself.

“Yes.” Molly’s hands roamed over his chest of their own accord, clutching at the silk shirt.

“Molly,” Jim breathed, “Would you like to go home?”

“Yes.”

 

The car was waiting for them outside as always, and they spent the whole short trip back just touching each other. Molly traced her fingertip around his eyes, his mouth, his ear. She slid her torso against his and groaned at the friction, so soft, so wonderful. They pulled up outside the apartment and Jim took her hand, the two of them skipping across the lobby like schoolchildren. Their guard came up in the lift with them to open the door and check the place over, but once he was done he left and then it was just Jim and Molly.

“Oh my god,” she looked over the kitchen, “It’s like nothing happened!”

“What happened?” Jim frowned thoughtfully, as if he actually couldn’t remember.

Molly grabbed him and stared into his eyes. “You’re like a wizard. Or a Disney villain.”

Jim scoffed but his eyes held an almost wounded look. “Please! I’m better than that.”

She laughed and kicked off her shoes, running over to the couch. She was about to jump on it when she stepped onto the plush rug and stopped.

“Oooooh! This is the best. Quick Jim, come feel this!”

He tugged off his shoes and socks and hurried over. Molly was already lying on the floor, waving her arms like she was making a snow angel on the large crimson rug. He flung himself down beside her.

“Wow. I should have one of these in every room. I’d sleep much more if my bed was covered with this.”

Molly rolled onto her side and propped her head up on her hand.  “Why don’t you sleep?”

“I do. I just can’t when I’m working on something big. Can’t turn this off.” He tapped his head.

“Sherlock thought sleep was wasted time.”

“I’m not Sherlock.” He said lightly.

“I know. But you’re the same sometimes. ‘Cept I think you have it better.”

“Better?” Jim turned to copy her position.

“Yes. You enjoy things – dinner, art, music, people. Sex. Sherlock only enjoys his work.”

“And John.”

“And John, I guess. You don’t have a John.”

“Can’t, not in my profession. But I can have a Molly, and that’s just as good.”

 

Jim leaned closer and ran his hand down her side. She shivered, pressing herself a little further into the rug. The little Irishman tilted his head and kissed her. She moaned into the touch and scooted her hips forward until their bodies were pressed together.

“Is this okay?” she whispered.

“Darling, this is fucking fantastic.”

Jim stroked her back softly as they kissed. She’d sort of expected him to be wilder after those loud bouts with Sebastian, but maybe it was the drug keeping him gentle as he threaded his fingers through her hair. She arched up into his touch, small whimpers escaping her as his lips caressed her throat and jaw. Every small contact between them felt amplified and electric. She’d never felt more in tune with the Molly she wanted to be. She would have been content to just make out with Jim for the rest of her life, but he had other ideas. The genius reached over and unzipped her dress, the long metallic whizz loud in the empty apartment.

“You know what we need? Music.” Molly smiled.

Jim slapped his palm to his forehead. “By god! You take that little slice of temptation off and I will correct our mistake.”

He shuffled over to the media system on his knees while she tried to slither out of her dress. The straps kept getting stuck on her arms though.

“Aha!”

Jim fiddled for another moment and then music poured out of the speakers and crashed over them. It was The Doors, not quite what she’d been expecting but still sinuous and mellow.

“How are you going there?”

“Just...another minute.” She said as she wriggled out of the tight dress.

“Take your time!” he disappeared off towards his room.

 

By the time he came back with shirt unbuttoned, Molly had freed herself and was revelling in all the extra skin against the rug. Jim lowered himself until he hovered over her, their legs interwoven.

“Where did you go?”

He held up a condom before tossing it on the couch for later. “I still have some control of my faculties.”

“Enough that you can use ridiculous big words.” Molly teased and snaked her arms around him under the shirt.

He kissed her again, letting some of his weight rest on the brunette as their mouths moved in sync. The music was everywhere around them, so pervasive it was almost a solid presence against Molly’s skin. The rug was warm and welcoming, sucking her into a soft safe world. She wrapped her legs around Jim’s waist and squeezed her hand into the gap between them, unzipping his trousers.

“Good golly, Miss Molly.” Jim said before collapsing into helpless giggles.

She laughed at the way he buried his face in her shoulder and sniggered. She laughed until her stomach ached and they were both crying, and then she kissed him and they laughed some more.

“That’s an old one.”

“Sorry, no idea where it came from.” He spluttered.

When they’d exhausted themselves and fallen into a heap on the rug, Molly closed her eyes. She could feel Jim’s heartbeat against her chest, quick and fluttery as his body calmed down. She could feel his breath on her neck and the strip of skin exposed by his shirt against her stomach.

“How many people have gotten this close to you?” she wondered aloud.

“Not many.”

“How many is not many?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, stroking his chin melodramatically. “Hmmm...Four.”

“I don’t believe you.” Molly giggled.

Jim smiled. “Now darling, don’t start that again. You’ll have us both in stitches.”

 

He was looking down at her with those huge, intense eyes. Molly felt like he was looking straight through her to the core, like he knew her better than herself; he could see all the parts that made her up and still he looked. She wrapped herself around him again and kissed his forehead. Her hands drifted down to the small bulge that remained of his initial ruined erection. Jim hissed and pressed himself further into her hands, grinding against her. The happy floaty feeling was being replaced by a sense of urgency, a not-quite quivering in her limbs. She needed to be touched – now.

“Please.”

“Yes.”

Jim buried his face in her cleavage and pulled her underwear to one side. His fingertips ghosted over her hot skin and Molly shivered, crooning softly. She tugged at the waistband of his pants and got them down his thighs, using her feet to push them off the rest of the way. She pawed at his crotch, distracted by the twisting fingers tracing her folds.

“This reminds me of our third date. You remember?”

“You, you came around t-to watch TV. I d-d-don’t remember anything like this.”

“You were ready for it though. Pushing your chest out and laughing at all my little jokes. Third date, after all. It’s what ordinary people do. And I have to admit, I wanted you.”

“Really?” she breathed.

“Yeah. You were trying so hard and I thought it might be interesting. But I was playing gay, so I couldn’t.”

“You’re not gay now though, right?”

Jim barked a laugh. He swooped down and kissed her hungrily, hands straying all over her thighs. Molly cooed at the loss of his touch but he rolled off her and tore off his underwear. He opened the condom and pulled it over his stiff member. Molly’s hands grabbed at the rug for something to do until he climbed back on top of her. Jim slid his finger between her folds and into her slick core. She was tight, and her wetness made him want to sink in and never come out again. He withdrew his finger and pressed the head of his cock against her entrance, forcing himself to go slowly. Molly groaned and spread her legs wider for him, clutching at his arms. _Oh, Daddy likes that_.

 

Molly’s eyes crossed a bit when Jim was fully sheathed, but she didn’t feel uncomfortable. The music lulled her, stirring the fire in her gut. She wanted Jim to surround her, to have no space between them until they melted into one body. He moved inside her and she moaned. The tenderness from earlier had faded a little, and he pumped his hips harder and faster now. She could feel the potential danger in Jim’s hands as they held her down or stroked her face; could feel the power and strength of his thighs as they slammed against hers. She wanted more though and beat her tiny feet against his back desperately. _It’s not enough, it’s not enough, it’s not everything._

“I know.” Jim muttered and she didn’t even realise she must have said it out loud.

 

He sped up, hands raking her sides as they flung themselves together. They weren’t Jim and Molly anymore, they were one creature that was rolling hips and loud music and the soft, splendid rug surrounding her flesh. Every stroke was like a revelation, a new rush of pleasure that made her lightheaded. Jim’s firm hands were the only thing holding her together and as he thrust harder she felt she might just float away if not for those sudden shocks. She was aware of her own panting and Jim’s soft noises, a sort of feminine grunting that would have made her giggle all over again if there hadn’t been more important things to think about.

She was close now, in a strange way. The feeling had been creeping on for some time but now it raced up her spine in a tingling that hadn’t quite peaked yet.

“Jim, Jim, Jim!” she mumbled, lacing her fingers around the back of his neck.

He started to laugh, really laugh in that sinister surprising way. Molly held on as they rocked for what felt like forever and still she didn’t fall off the edge. She didn’t ever want to stop but the tingling was incessant and demanding, and she threw Jim a pleading look. The genius didn’t seem to notice but he did lean down and kiss her. The change in angle hit the right places and Molly sighed loudly as she stiffened and rippled for a moment before going completely limp. Jim nipped gently at her ear lobe as he thrust again and then he was growling low against her throat as he climaxed.

Molly felt like every cell in her body was giving off static electricity. She felt like part of the air, bright and sparkly. She closed her eyes and ran her arms over the rug again, letting the music and the darkness take her.

*****

“Boss?”

Jim groaned. “What?”

“We got Nemec.”

The criminal rolled over to glare at Sebastian. “Good. Is Severin with him?”

“Yea, but we haven’t started. Figured you’d wanna watch.”

Jim nodded and cursed at the thick, heavy feeling in his head that went with the action.

“I’ll need time to clean up though. I can’t possibly enact decent vengeance with a mouth like cotton wool.”

Sebastian raised a brow. “Yeah. I take it you two had fun last night?”

“Hmm?” Jim frowned.

He followed the general wave in his direction and looked down. Moriarty was naked, a corner of the rug folded over his groin. Molly lay beside him in her underwear, hair a curly mess over her face.

“Oh! That. Yes, that was fun. You’re not jealous, are you Bastian?”

The sniper just rolled his eyes. “Does this mean you two are...I dunno, an item?”

“No, it means we had a good time. You don’t honestly think Miss Hooper feels any type of romantic attraction to me, do you?”

“Didn’t think so. I can ask Sev to check if you like.”

Jim looked down at the sleeping woman pensively. “Do that. And maybe get her a blanket?”

 

Molly woke up alone on the lounge room floor, instantly turning red at her lack of clothing. She felt alright, all things considered, with some fuzzy but pleasant memories of her and Jim rolling around on the rug. The pathologist gathered up her clothes and headed quickly for her room, bemoaning the tangled bird nest on her head. She hopped in the shower and immediately felt more human, staying under until the water had gone cold as she went back over the events of the night before. It was strange to think she had gone from being scared of the tornado-like rage in the kitchen, to having a good time, to having a _really_ good time. _But that’s what we do, Molly – we adapt_. The drugs had turned out to be okay; not something she’d do again in a hurry, but sort of fun. And the sex wasn’t a thing she necessarily wanted but she enjoyed it. So long as it didn’t make things more complicated she was happy to just push on like it never happened. _It’s not like I have feelings for Jim and he certainly can’t have feelings for me_.

 

She got out and put on her comfiest lounging-about clothes. Her stomach was rumbling and she remembered there was an orgasmic chicken pie in the fridge courtesy of Severin. Molly hoped it had survived Jim’s tantrum. She went out to check and found Sev sitting at the island picking his teeth.

“Hey Moll.”

“Um, hey. How long have you been here?” she thought back to her half-nakedness with a blush.

“Awhile. Can I get you anything?”

“Oh, I’m fine, I was just going to heat up some of that pie from the other night. It’s still here isn’t it?” she opened the fridge.

“Yep. So you and the boss hey?”

Molly shut the fridge door harder than she meant to. “It’s not like that.”

“Bastian seemed to think it might be.”

She spun and leaned over the island. “Oh god. He’s not...he’s not jealous or anything, is he?”

“Should he be?”

“No! No, Jim and I, I was just drunk and, I mean we were on ecstasy and it just seemed like a good idea and I don’t feel that way about Jim _at all_.”

Severin laughed. “Relax, Moll. He’s fine with it. I told you they’re not dating. So if you and the boss occasionally think it’s a good idea, then no one’s gonna object.”

She breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Well I doubt it will happen again.”

Molly punched him in the arm.

“Hey! What was that for?” he rubbed the spot.

“Making me worry!”

Sev just grinned like the naughty little boy he was. “Totally worth it. Should have seen your face, Moll.”


	5. Chapter 5

Truthfully the sex didn’t seem to change anything. The next time she saw Sebastian Molly turned bright red but he just winked and never mentioned it. She never asked Jim what happened to the guy who’d double-crossed him, but since the genius was walking around the apartment whistling most days she figured they’d succeeded.

Another week passed, and another. Jim spent some days locked in his room again but he always seemed to dote on Molly more afterwards and she had her books to entertain her in the meantime. Sebastian had been working on her Czech with her since he spoke it passably well himself. She was getting pretty good, even if it was just her opinion, but nowhere near as fluent as Jim.

One night they were having dinner at home, the four of them at the table. Sebastian had made a mouth-watering roast duck and Jim had just resurfaced from his latest project. They were drinking a nice red wine and Molly thought it was the closest thing she’d had to a regular family dinner in years.

Jim inhaled sharply before taking another sip. “Do you know how long we’ve been in Prague, Mollikins?”

She shrugged. “I sort of lost track.”

“Two and a half months.”

She gaped for a second. _Is it really that long?_ It felt like just yesterday she’d been bundled out of England, but when she thought about it the days had been stacking up.

“Wow. Does that mean you want to leave? You know, move on again?”

“How would you feel about that?” Jim’s face was carefully contained, his voice flat.

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, aware both Morans were watching her closely.

“I guess it could be fun. See somewhere new.”

“You have no wish to run away back to London?”

“Would it matter if I did?”

“Maybe. Probably not.” Jim shrugged.

“Well as weird as it sounds – as it is – I don’t really want to go back. Not yet.”

“It’s not weird at all. Who could pass up living with me?” Jim beamed.

Severin snorted and then quickly turned back to his plate.

“We’re not leaving Prague.”

“Oh?” Molly frowned, confused, “Then why-”

“Because, dear. Bastian tells me you’ve got some tolerable Czech now. I thought you might be bored lazing about all day. I did notice all those scientific journals being added to my morning papers.”

She blushed. “Well, I sort of miss the morgue. Is that terrible?”

“No, no. I’ve got a job lined up for you. Just a couple of days a week though – you’re still supposed to be keeping me company.”

“Really?”Molly almost gasped. She laid her cutlery down carefully before she dropped it.

“Sure. Sev can drop you off and pick you up in the afternoons, keep an eye on you during the day just in case.”

“Always just in case.” She smiled wryly.

“Don’t give me that look. I think it’s been made clear I have enemies here who wouldn’t hesitate to attack you. Sev will loiter around and make sure you’re okay, nothing more.”

“Alright. Thank you, I guess.”

“And the best part? You get to pick your own name, as promised.”

She smiled at Jim’s self-satisfied look. “I’ll have to think about it.”

 

So two days later Molly found herself in the mortuary of Na Homolce Hospital with a staff ID that said Marie Hunter and an untraceable phone that could only call Bastian, Sev and Jim. The amount of trust Jim was showing her was sort of unbelievable. _It could just be cockiness_ , she thought. _Maybe he’s so sure I won’t run he doesn’t need to keep me cooped up._ But she didn’t think it was that. He’d taken her out a few times just the two of them (and escort) when the Morans were busy, never seeming to think she might run or try to get help. So maybe Jim thought she was settled in enough that she could go back to some semblance of a normal life. _That should probably freak me out more, huh?_

It didn’t really matter, because as she sunk her scalpel into the first corpse in two and a half months, everything felt fine.

*****

Molly was practically bouncing as she got out of the car in front of their apartment building. They were leaving in the morning for a trip to the countryside. Jim had even hinted he might be open to extending it to a short tour of Eastern Europe’s highlights – Budapest, Romania, maybe even as far as Istanbul. She was so excited she almost whistled, Sev shaking his head as he followed her across the lobby. They took the slow ride up to the top floor and stepped out into the hallway. Sev was about to unlock the door when a smashing sound made him pause with the key half out.

“Is that...” Molly whispered.

There was a feral yell and another crash and Sev motioned for her to stand out of the doorway before opening the door a crack.

“It’s just Jim.”

“Just Jim?” she rolled her eyes, “How bad?”

Sev poked his head in and quickly withdrew it. “Average. He’s shattered that big mirror and ripped a bunch of pages out of his books. Probably safe enough to go in.”

She gave him a determined nod and they crept in quietly. Jim had his back to the door as he took a knife to the couch cushions, stuffing flying. Sev took Molly’s hand and quickly dragged her over to the kitchen where Sebastian was sitting on the floor smoking as he leaned against the fridge.

“How long has this been going on?” Molly whispered.

“’Bout half an hour.” Bastian drawled.

“You could have warned us, arsehole,” Sev punched him in the shoulder, “We would have stopped for coffee or something instead of coming straight back.”

“What brought it on?”

“He was in his room and I was out here doing the final prep for tomorrow, so I don’t know exactly what set him off. He just stormed in, shot me a glare and started wrecking things.”

Molly sighed. She wasn’t bothered by the destruction. There was nothing in the lounge area she really loved and Jim was always good about replacing everything he damaged. What bothered her was the way Jim became completely unreasonable and unhinged until she couldn’t trust him not to jump out of a window.

“Well I’m not going to crouch here all night.” Sev snorted, crawling towards his bedroom to avoid drawing Jim’s wrath.

 

Molly looked after him worriedly but he made it unnoticed. Sebastian chuckled darkly.

“Sad when a grown man as dangerous as Sev has to avoid a skinny Irishman.”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

“Probably not a great idea, Molly. It’s better to wait it out.”

“I don’t want to crouch here all night either, and if we don’t do something he’ll injure himself.”

She left her bag and coat next to Sebastian and stood, edging out of the kitchen. Jim had picked up a lamp and was aiming for the TV when she cleared her throat as loudly as possible.

“Jim?”

The man who flicked his head around to look at her was not the polished Jim most of the world knew. He was panting heavily, his arms straining to hold the lamp aloft. He was sweaty, his dress shirt unbuttoned most of the way down his chest, cuffs flapping loose. His eyes were vacant.

“Will you talk to me for a minute?” she held up a hand, palm open.

Pieces of mirror littered the floor between them and she stepped over the mess carefully. Jim’s shoulders shook as he watched her.

“What happened? You want to tell me?”

“No.” He spat.

“Was it the plan?” she stepped closer, carefully not to startle him. She’d done her psych prac like everyone else.

“Maybe.” Jim muttered begrudgingly.

“Did something go wrong?”

“Mycroft. He knows I’m here.”

She was almost close enough to touch him now. His face screwed up angrily and he tossed the lamp aside, leaving a dent in the wall. Molly flinched but kept her face calm. _It’s fine. It’s fine, it’s just Jim, he’s just upset. You can do this_.

“Did he ruin things?”

“Oh no, I had planned for everything of course. But they came very near to catching my men afterwards. They mean to chase us out of Prague. _Nobody_ forces me to do anything!”

He was fired up again, pacing over the floor with no regard for the bits of mirror as he ranted.

“I was in their famous interrogation rooms and still I came out on top! Mycroft Holmes is nothing compared to his brother, an easily bent old fool. I will not give up an inch of ground to him!”

“Okay,” Molly nodded, “You won’t. We’ll stay in Prague and you’ll just hire cleverer people and we’ll all be more careful.”

 

Jim looked at her as if he’d forgotten she was there. “What?”

“I said we’ll stay in Prague.”

“Yes, yes, of course we’ll stay in Prague.” He said quietly, face resigned.

“You’ve cut your feet. Do you want me to take a look?”

“Fine.”

She took his elbow and led him back towards the kitchen, prodding him towards the dining table until he sat on the edge.

“Sebastian, can you pass me the first aid kit?”

He rummaged through the cabinet for a second before traipsing over. “’Ere you go Molly.”

Jim’s lip curled back. “Where have you been? Hiding?”

“Seemed the sensible thing to do.” Sebastian met his gaze steadily.

“Get this cleaned up, would you?”

“Right away boss. You want me to postpone the trip?”

Molly glanced up worriedly as she put on her gloves. She’d been looking forward to their holiday, and her concern for Jim hadn’t given her time to consider they might not be going now. She searched Jim’s face as he turned to Sebastian.

“I can’t appear to be running away.”

Her face fell a little, though she quickly controlled it. _Wouldn’t do to show Jim you’re upset when you just got him calmed down._

“But I know Molly here is dying to go, so Sev can take her.”

“Really?” she gaped.

Jim shrugged. “Sure. It’s not like you’re going to run off now, are you?”

“Oh thank you!” she hugged him.

The criminal seemed mildly uncomfortable for a second before hugging her back. “You’re welcome. Now, about my feet?”

“Oh, right.” She drew back and knelt, tweezers in hand.

*****

Jim could feel Molly’s gaze on the back of his neck. He didn’t look up from his laptop.

“Mollyyyyyyy, Daddy’s trying to assassinate a world leader. What do you want?”

“You’ve been in here for 36 hours. You should eat something.” She said, still peeking around the door frame.

“No time.”

She strode straight over to his desk and put down a smoothie in a large glass with a straw.

“There, hands-free. No excuse now.”

He looked at the smoothie and shrugged. He was about to put the straw in his mouth when he paused.

“You didn’t make this, did you?”

Molly slapped his arm. “No, it was Sev. But thanks for the vote of confidence!”

Jim glanced at his clock and arched a brow. “You’re going to be late again.”

“I’m only there three days a week, I’m sure they can get along fine without me for another five minutes.”

“Hmm. I might stop by and take you for lunch once I’m done here.”

“Sounds good.” She kissed his cheek and ran to her room.

Sev’s voice sounded from the kitchen. “Ready to go?”

“Two seconds!” Molly called as she thrust the last of her stuff into her satchel.

She slung her white coat over one arm and hurried out. Sebastian was having breakfast at the island while his brother leaned against the bench. Molly grabbed a piece of toast from the counter and kissed Sebastian’s cheek before running for the door Severin held open.

“Bye boys!”

They took the ancient lift down and sped across the lobby to the car.

“If I tell him to step on it, we might just make it in time.” Sev glanced at his watch.

“There’s no hurry,” Molly joked as she slid into the back seat, “Not like my patients can get any deader.”

 

Jim came to take her for lunch, as promised.

“So how late were you?” he smiled as they walked the short distance from the hospital to a nearby cafe.

“Three minutes. No one even noticed, so stop fussing.”

“Don’t ask the impossible, dear.”

They sat at a secluded table in the back corner by the kitchen door, Sev lounging across the one directly opposite.

“Do you have to work tonight?” Molly asked as she glanced over the menu.

“I’ve got one tiny loose end to tie up and then I’m wide open. I gave Bastian and Sevvie the night off too. Poor lambs have been working themselves to the bone clearing out Mycroft’s agents. What did you want to do?”

“We could go out. Dinner? Dancing? A play?”

“How about bowling?”

“Bowling?” she laughed, “You bowl?”

“I play all sorts of sport, I’ll have you know.” Jim sniffed.

“Alright. Bowling. We should ask the boys if they want to come though.”

“Very well. Now, how about we start with something light to share?”

 

Molly headed back to the morgue with a giddy expression. She could hear Sev shadowing her as always but she didn’t mind. It was nice to know she had company if she wanted it. She was content, so much happier than she’d been in London, and it was alarming to think it had taken being kidnapped by a homicidal brainiac to make her _happy_. _What does that say about me?_ She realised she hadn’t even thought about Sherlock in a month. She missed him yes, but not enough to go home.

So when Sev peeled off to whatever place he hid while she was working, Molly unzipped the latest body bag and almost had a heart attack.

“Sherlock! What the hell are you doing! You almost killed me!”

The detective sat up, looking exactly the same as she remembered. He shucked off the bag and finished unzipping it.

“We don’t have much time.”

“What are you doing here? How did you even find me? Have you been speaking to Mycroft?” she spluttered.

“Moran will be here in less than three seconds, we need to go!” he grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the far door.

“No! Stop! Answer my questions first.”

Sherlock paused, turning at her tone. She’d never spoken to him like that before. The other doors burst open as Severin ran in with his gun drawn and Sherlock’s head whipped up, his arm pulling Molly behind his body.

“Wait! Wait Sev, I want to talk to him.” Molly called.

“I’m going to have to tell the boss he’s here.” Sev’s fingers twitched around the weapon.

“Fine. Just don’t shoot him.”

He lowered the gun slowly. “Okay Moll, but if he tries anything shifty I’m going to put him in that body bag for real.”

Sherlock was looking at her like she was insane. “We need to go before Moriarty gets here with reinforcements.”

“Oh, he won’t do that. Sit down and talk to me for a minute. I mean, you came all this way to rescue me right?” she smiled.

 

The detective looked uneasy but sat anyway. Molly drew up another chair and faced him, while Sev perched on the edge of a metal gurney and glared at Sherlock.

“It’s amazing to see you. How did you find me? Are you...you know, back?”

“I have my contacts, just as Moriarty does. Took longer than I’d expected and I apologise for that. I honestly thought he was dead.”

“I’m sure Jim will be impressed all the same.”

“Jim? Molly, he’s not the man you knew at St Bart’s.”

She frowned. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been living with him for...Sev, how long is it now?”

“Eight months, Moll.”

“Eight months. I think I know him better than most people.”

“Exactly why we should be leaving. We need to get you out of here.”

“But I don’t want to go.”

He stared at her as if he didn’t recognise her. “Of course you do.”

“No, really I don’t.” She shrugged.

“You’re Moriarty’s prisoner.”

“Do I look trapped to you?” she waved a hand at their surroundings.

“The man is a maniac. He could turn on you at any moment. He will, the second he gets bored.”

“I don’t know about that. He’s never hurt me. I’ve seen him mad enough to smash every mirror in the house and punch his men until they’re unconscious, and he’s still never raised a hand to me or ordered anyone else to.”

“He kills people, Molly!”

“I know, and I’m not saying it’s okay,” Molly winced, “But look at where I work. People die every day Sherlock, for stupid reasons mostly.”

Holmes looked incensed for a second before his face completely smoothed out and he sat back in his chair.

“Ah, I see. Stockholm Syndrome. Moriarty has lulled you into a false sense of security and convinced you this is normal, probably to get to me more.”

“I do not have Stockholm Syndrome, Sherlock.” She said angrily.

“Then you’re in love with him.”

She practically choked on her outraged laughter. “Are you kidding?”

“It makes sense, you dated him before. It would be easy for a young single woman being held hostage to transfer those warm fuzzy feelings to her captor, even if his actions proved he was no longer that man. Happens in abusive relationships all the time.”

 

The clinical way Sherlock was trying to diagnose her made Molly even madder. She’d been doing fine on her own until he breezed in, hadn’t she?

“I am not in love with Jim. And before you say he’s toying with my emotions, he doesn’t want me to be.”

“Are you having sex with him?”

The question caught her by surprise coming from Sherlock as it did. The truth was she and Jim had fallen into bed once or twice since that first time, always on nights they’d gone out alone and ending up playing what she called the Stefania and Milos game. Jim would construct new stories for them, and in the general excitement and fun of pretending they sometimes ended up having sex. It didn’t mean anything – they were two humans expressing human needs, like what Jim had with Sebastian.

“I forgot how blunt you can be.”

“You didn’t answer, Molly.”

“A few times. He’s never forced me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s worse if he hasn’t.”

Sev might have growled if he wasn’t so well trained. Molly stood up, fuming.

“Do you hear yourself, Sherlock? You’d actually prefer for Jim to have raped me than the idea that I might enjoy the odd fling with your enemy? You’re the fucked-up one in this equation.”

“I apologise.”

“You what?”

“I apologise. Please sit. I imagine Moriarty is not far away and I was wrong to waste valuable time questioning your basic instincts for sexual intimacy.”

The apology wasn’t much but Molly knew it was the best Sherlock could do.

“It doesn’t matter how long it takes Jim to get here. I’m not coming back to London with you.”

“Why?”

“I’m sure you’ve got a theory, Sherlock,” she smiled sadly, “You tell me.”

“It’s as I’ve said. Your emotions are compromised. You have become comfortable in a dangerous situation, and you fear change just as much now as you ever did in England. You don’t want to leave because Moriarty has convinced you there is no life other than this.”

“You were always an idiot when it came to feelings, Sherlock. I’m not coming with you because I like it here. I’m happy. It might not be the most ordinary or stable lifestyle but it makes me happy. Jim and the others care about me. They value me as more than just a lab assistant or the sad, lonely girl who watched Glee on the couch with her cat and commented on her own blog. They need me as much as I need them. And I know that Jim is involved in some very bad things, but honestly? I don’t care. At least he’s good to me.”

 

There was a slow clap and they both looked up to see Jim standing in the doorway.

“Lovely, Mollikins. I don’t know if I deserve your glowing praise but it’s nice to hear someone appreciates me. Hello Sherlock. I see you’re not dead.”

“Could say the same for you.”

“Congratulations on that by the way. Masterful performance – but then, you had Molly to help. Knew you’d find us eventually. Couldn’t stay away, could you? Is London too boring without me?”

“I only came to bring Molly back where she belongs. You and I can duel another day.”

“And what if I don’t want Molly to go anywhere?” Jim walked closer until he was standing by their chairs, “I’ve grown quite attached.”

“Too bad.”

“Have you asked her what she wants?”

“She seems to be under the delusion that she needs you to validate her. You’ve done a marvellous job brainwashing her, but then I don’t expect it was very hard for someone of your talents.”

Jim’s hand cracked across Sherlock’s face. The noise was incredible in the quiet morgue and Molly gasped more from shock than any fear for Sherlock.

“And you wonder why she feels overlooked. I’d watch your tongue, Sherly. My favourite twins and I are very fond of Miss Hooper, and I won’t take kindly to your usual insistence that you know best.”

“You can’t possibly think I’m just going to leave her in your hands. Surely my very presence implies I care about her!”

“I don’t doubt that.” Jim shrugged, “But I care more.”

“Molly please,” Sherlock ignored his adversary, “You’re not safe here.”

“Tell you what, Sherly, if that’s your big issue there’s an easy fix. Pass me your phone, darlin’.”

Molly fished inside her lab coat for the thing and handed it over. Moriarty fiddled with the keys for a moment before offering it to Sherlock.

“Pop your number in sexy, and then if little Molly ever feels she needs an escape she can call in the cavalry.”

“And if you ever turn on her you’ll make sure she can’t send the message.” Sherlock said scornfully.

“That’s a risk for her to take. Molly?”

“Do it Sherlock. It would be nice to chat every now and then. See how everyone’s getting on.”

 

Faced with her bright smile and Jim’s mincing smirk, Sherlock snatched the phone and entered his number.

“This isn’t over.”

“Oh stop being boring. You’re in Prague! Do some sight-seeing, take in the river. We could have dinner tomorrow night.” Jim said cheerily.

“Unfortunately my flight leaves tonight.”

“Nonsense, that’s easily fixed.”

“I regret I’m needed back in London.”

Sherlock stood and Jim moved out of his way obligingly.

“Goodbye Molly. I hope you’ll think on what I’ve said.”

“I hope something got through that thick skull.” She stood and hugged him.

“Moran. Moriarty.”

“Cya gorgeous. Maybe you should give _me_ a call sometime.”

Sherlock just threw one last hopeless look at Molly and left.

Molly sighed. “God, I’d forgotten what an arse he is. I mean I didn’t forget, I knew, I just thought he was better than that.”

“You could have gone with him, you know,” Jim said in a curious tone, “I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

“Then I’m staying.”

It hurt that Sherlock wouldn’t stay for dinner. She hadn’t seen him in eight months and now he seemed repulsed by her, all because she’d realised Jim wasn’t a terrible person all the time. _Sherlock’s terrible sometimes, but I bet John never complains_. Moriarty put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his chest.

“There now, Mollikins. Sherlock might come around.”

She laughed wetly. “No he won’t. He’s a stubborn bastard.”

“Alright, he won’t. What do you say we blow off the rest of the day and go bowling now?”

“I’m okay, really.” She smiled.

“Well I insist. Severin, call your brother and tell him to meet us. We’re off to have a damn good time.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit violent in this one, guys.

Molly closed the morgue drawer and glanced at the clock. It was almost ten, much later than she usually finished but Jim was working and there’d been a big car accident. Lots of new patients for her to study. _Quitting time_. She peeled off her gloves and tossed them in the bio bin as the doors burst open and Sev grabbed her arm, gun drawn.

“Come with me, quick and quiet, and stay very close.”

“My bag-”

“Leave it.”

“But the phone...”

“They can’t trace Jim through it.”

The look on his face was somewhere between concern and focus, and that expression on Sev worried her more than anything. She took his offered hand and ran out into the hospital halls. Severin headed straight for the stairwell, checking each level before he pulled her down.

“What’s going on?” Molly asked, fighting to keep from tripping as they bolted down the stairs.

“Men on the roof, not sure whose. Came in with a medical chopper but if they’re ambos I’m the Pope.”

“And you think they’re here for me?” she squeaked.

“I’m not staying to find out. I’ve called Bastian and we’ve got reinforcements coming but for the moment we’re outnumbered, so keep your head down and do exactly as I say.”

“Course.” She nodded stiffly.

“They’ll be in the morgue by now.” Sev muttered as they reached the ground floor.

He tugged her half behind his body as he eased the stairwell door open, but the coast seemed clear enough.

“Alright, we’re going straight out onto the street and then left. Couple of blocks and the car will meet us. Here, take the coat off – makes you more conspicuous.”

Molly shrugged off her lab coat and tucked her hair behind her ears grimly. She was scared but she trusted Jim’s people to keep her safe, especially since it was Jim’s fault she wasn’t. There were footsteps now high above them as someone else entered the stairwell. Sev tucked his gun into the pocket of his coat and stepped into the corridor. She stuck as close as possible, walking briskly for the exit.

“Good night Marie.” The receptionist smiled as they passed.

“Good night.” Molly tried to smile back but only managed a lacklustre grin.

 

Once on the pavement Sev led her away from the group of smokers by the hospital door and down the street. After a few metres Molly glanced back. Two men in emergency services jumpsuits were standing in the doorway, scanning the street.

“Sev!” she tugged his arm.

He saw them and cursed, quickly switching direction down an adjoining road. He raised a hand to his ear.

“Two at the doors, don’t know if they spotted us.”

Whoever was on the other end said something.

“Three minutes from meeting point. How long until we’ve got cover?”

He listened to the reply and glanced at Molly. “Forty seconds.”

She felt a slight relief. Forty seconds was nothing really, and then they’d have a safe run the last few minutes to the car. She hoped this didn’t mean she’d have to give up the job at the hospital. She really liked it there.

They had crossed into another wide boulevard when three men jumped out of a white van parked by the kerb. Sev stepped back and wedged Molly between him and a shop window, raising his gun as the trio pulled their own semi-automatics. He fired once, deafening Molly, but all three dropped. She was still stunned from the noise when he grabbed her hand and started sprinting.

“Wha...how?”

“Our cover.” He pointed to the rooftops.

“Oh, right.” Molly gasped, breathing heavy as her feet pounded against the cement.

They turned the last corner and she could see the car waiting for them, doors already open. The pathologist tucked her head down and ran. They were almost there when the driver’s door opened and someone stepped out.

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” Sev placed his hand on her chest to stop her as the stranger smiled at them.

The last thing Molly remembered was the brilliant ball of orange and the thunk of hitting the concrete.

*****

Her head hurt worse than anything she’d ever felt. Something warm and sticky running down her neck told her it was probably fractured, but other than that Molly couldn’t process anything around the pain. She tried hard to ignore it, forcing her mind onto the crisis at hand. She’d been kidnapped – again. _Why does this keep happening? I’m nothing special_. But Jim had decided she was, so evidently now everyone thought so. When they were running from the hospital she’d been sure it was Mycroft and Sherlock, trying to take her back by force since they couldn’t woo her away with sense, but the ferocious ache of her head told her that theory was busted. The Holmes boys would have seen her properly sedated and stuffed with morphine. Whoever had her now didn’t care much for her welfare.

She stifled a whimper at that thought and tried to decide what she should do next. Molly had seen enough movies to know it might be a good idea to figure out where she was rather than just freak out in agony. _Although the answer might be worse than the not-knowing. No, it’s better to see and then maybe I can do something_. She cracked one eye carefully, expecting bright light and finding only darkness. She opened the other but she still couldn’t see much. The only light came from a tiny window high in the wall but it was enough to see she was in a chair. She could feel the handcuffs holding her wrists behind her back, cold and tight enough to hurt when she moved. The rest of the room seemed ordinary and empty. There was a distinct smell of blood. _Some kind of butcher? I hope so._

Molly wasn’t sure if it was better or worse to let her captors know she was awake. On one hand, it might bring them in to torment her. On the other, they might give her something for her pain or explain why they wanted her. _Not to worry, Jim will find me. I’m not sure how but he’s brilliant, so..._

 

Jim sat by the door of one of their safehouse rooms with his fingers pressed together in front of his face. _The lack of smashing and screaming is actually more terrifying_ , Sebastian thought as he watched medics tending to Sev on the bed inside. The other Moran had been knocked out by the car bomb, his face and arms heavily scratched, but he would be fine once the concussion wore off. Bastian cursed that he hadn’t been there. The regular snipers had tried and failed to stop men loading Molly into a van and he’d never seen Jim more menacing than when they’d received that bit of news.

“Do you know who took her?” he asked quietly.

“There’s a few suspects, but only one likely enough to risk offending me.” Jim spat.

“Then we can get her back, right? I mean, what are we waiting for?”

“Calm, Sebastian. Even if I know who did it I need to find out where they’ve taken her, and that requires some thinking time. If you want something to do you can go examine the bodies of the ones that got shot.”

The ex-colonel felt useless. His fingers were literally itching to find whoever had harmed his brother and Molly and belt them until their face was completely flat. He glanced at his boss but Jim was deep in thought, and with a sigh Sebastian realised there was nothing he could do but wait.

 

Molly’s throat was so dry she couldn’t have called out if she’d wanted to. Her wound seemed to have stopped bleeding but she felt woozy and sick. The door opened with a metallic clang and she struggled to lift her head. Two men entered, one flicking on the light as he passed. The other pushed a stainless steel medical trolley over to her chair. They were both strangers, big sturdy Slavic-looking types with dark hair and goatees. One wore a black shirt and cargoes and the other was in a cheap suit. He stood before her, hands pressed against his stomach.

“I am told, Miss Hunter, you do not speak Serbian, so you will excuse my English. I have a few questions for you about Mr Moriarty.”

“Who?”

“Come now, miss. You have been seen with men commonly linked to Moriarty’s organisation. You have protection. I do not think it is a very big leap to assume you are connected to him in some way.”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about!” Molly insisted.

“Wrong again. Jovan?”

The second man slapped her, hard. Pain throbbed outwards from her skull as Molly gasped, biting her lip.

“Go to hell.” She glared up at him.

He laughed. “Spirited! I like that in my women. It is much better for you to tell us what we want to know, Miss Hunter, than for me to have Mr Perović here persuade you to tell.”

“What could I possibly tell you?”

“Firstly, I am very curious about your relationship to Mr Moriarty. Are you his sister? His lover? His wife even, perhaps?”

“None of the above.” She smirked.

“You are not his employee. Of that I am sure, since he does not require guards and snipers to protect his employees. I lost three men over you today.”

His eyes glittered darkly but Molly just shrugged. “You can’t be too broken up about it, since you sacrificed one on the car anyway.”

“His loss was calculated, and acceptable. Theirs will cost me something in compensation. So, to make up for it, I need you to be nice and open about all the little details of Moriarty’s organisation.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“It’s true, he doesn’t tell me about his work.” She pleaded.

“You live together. You associate with his people. You know things, even if you are not aware that you know them. And if you cannot remember them, Jovan will help you.”

 

The other man folded back the fabric on top of the trolley to reveal shining surgical implements. Molly had a horrible flashback to Jim’s wish to rip the bones out of someone’s fingers and gave a quiet sob. _Good one, Molly. Get mixed up in very organised crime_. Still, she wasn’t going to make things worse by betraying Jim or the twins. _Be brave for them_.

“I have nothing to say.”

“Miss Hunter, it pains me to hear that. You are really too pretty to waste on this.” He waved a hand towards the tools.

“I have nothing. To say.” She repeated, determined to stick to her ground before she began crying hysterically.

“Very well.”

The talkative man drew a mobile from his pocket. Molly recognised it as hers. They must have taken it from the hospital. He flicked it open and dialled a number, nodding to his assistant.

 

Jim’s mind was racing over every block of the city. Where would he take Molly, if he was one of these people? He was barely aware of Sebastian sitting nearby sulking or Sev snoring in his sick bed. In fact, he was so intent on his task he didn’t even hear his phone ring.

“Boss? Uh, boss?”

Sebastian gave up and reached into Jim’s coat, pulling out the phone and offering it to the genius.

“It’s Molly.”

Jim answered quickly, shooting his sniper a look. “Hello?”

_“Hello. This is the ingenious Mr Moriarty, yes?”_

Jim frowned at the heavy accent. His guess was right. “Mr Nemec the Younger, I presume?”

_“Vladimir always said you were clever. Not too smart when you killed him though, was it?”_

“Maybe he should have considered my reputation before crossing me. I would advise you not to make the same mistake.”

_“Oh, I am not going to cross you, Moriarty. I am going to kill you. You and your lapdogs, and your girl.”_

“So I suppose there’s no point asking about a ransom then?”

The man laughed. “ _You would not settle for an exchange even if I offered it. It is blood now.”_

Jim’s tone suddenly turned low and sinister. “Return her to me, Nemec, or your brother’s fate will seem like a day at the carnival compared to yours.”

“ _No Moriarty. I have only called, in fact, so you can enjoy this next part as much as I am.”_

Jim’s fingers dug into the arm of the chair as Nemec shifted the phone. He could hear Molly screaming, the sound shrill in his ear.

“Jesus Christ, Jim.” Sebastian screwed his eyes shut.

Jim’s face was stony, controlled. “Give me your phone.”

The screaming continued as he opened the program that would allow Sebastian to trace any of them as needed. He started the search for Molly’s phone as she broke into ragged sobs.

“Remember this, Sebastian, and promise you will wrench equally chilling sounds from Mr Nemec before this day is over.”

“With pleasure, boss.”

 

Molly was on the verge of passing out. Her legs and arms were numb and littered with shallow cuts. The one on her torso were deeper, thin gouges into her sides and stomach. It didn’t feel like anything had pierced her organs yet but it was only a matter of time. She had some broken bones in her arm and her face was hot and raw from the beating. Her throat burned worse than ever and her eyes blurred with desperate tears. She could see the phone in Nemec’s hand, the one tangible link to Jim. _He’ll come. He’ll come. He’s cleverer than Sherlock and he’ll never let this go_. With that comforting thought she did pass out.

 

_“Oh! What a shame, Miss Hunter is unconscious. We must wait now for her to wake up.”_

“Indeed.” Jim said, standing with a quick wave to Sebastian as his other hand relayed the location to his people on standby.

_“So what shall we talk about until then? I know, how about Vladimir? Is she special to you, Mr Moriarty? As special to you as my brother was to me?”_

“Special enough that when this is over, you’re going to wish I’d sent you off with Vladimir.” Jim growled as they hurried down to the car.

_“Excellent! I am glad to hear your pain.”_

“You will be my example to all the vermin of the Continent. Nobody fucks with me or mine.”

_“And yet, I seem to be doing a credible job.”_

Moriarty hung up on him. “How long?”

“Ten minutes. Men should already be in place.” Sebastian said as he checked his guns were loaded.

“Too long. She’ll wake up in another three.” Jim tapped his hand against the window.

“We’ll fix it, Jim. I told you they’re in place.”

*****

Molly could feel herself being dragged out of the blissful black. She tried to hold on but couldn’t, the fire throughout her body too distracting. Her eyes fluttered open with a groan.

“Ah, she is back with us! Unfortunately Mr Moriarty has decided he doesn’t much care what happens to you. Perhaps you would like now to tell me all about him?”

“No, don’t think so.” Molly laughed bitterly.

“You are stubborn and brave. This would be admirable if it was not so stupid. Just tell me and I will let you go.”

“No you won’t.”

“Alright. Jovan?”

She cringed just hearing the name, wounds complaining at the sudden twitch. He picked up a bone saw and she shrieked.

The next second the room was flooded with a blinding light. Molly winced and shut her eyes. She could hear the two Serbs yelling and then the door slammed against the wall with a crash and there was heavy thudding and shouts. The struggle continued for a few minutes and then there was silence. With a soft whine the light on her face dimmed and she decided to chance it, blinking away the black spots in her vision. Nemec and Petrović were face down on the concrete floor, trussed up like carpets. Five men in black commando outfits stood by the door, waving someone through.

“Jim.” She sighed happily, closing her eyes.

“Get those medics in here now!” Sebastian yelled at someone.

“Hello Mollikins. You alright?” the mastermind crouched by her feet.

“No Jim. I’m really not.” She started to cry, tears burning as they slid over the cuts on her cheek.

“You were a very good girl. I’m sorry about this. I should have prepared you more. First thing once you’re better, I’ll get the boys to train you.”

He leaned in and gave her a needy kiss. It hurt but Molly kissed back, desperate to reassure herself he was here and everything was going to be alright. Someone undid her cuffs and she cried out.

“Okay, let’s get her on the stretcher.” A woman in scrubs said.

“Wait.” Molly muttered.

“Don’t worry Moll, we’ll take care of these two. You just rest up and let the doctors work.” Bastian smiled stiffly.

“No. I want to do something.”

 

Sebastian eyed Jim warily but the genius shrugged. “Yes dear?”

“Help me?” she asked the sniper.

He lifted her in his arms, careful to avoid knocking her broken arm. She took a thick scalpel from the trolley in shaking fingers and pointed to Nemec.

“Him.”

“Hold him steady.”

The commandoes next to Nemec dragged him to his knees as Sebastian carried her closer. The man was purple with fury.

“You little bitch! What are you? Who are you to him?”

The harsh words made Sebastian’s grip tighten for a second before he remembered her injuries. Molly’s face was calm as before, tear-streaked and bloody. She already had bruises rising over most of her body.

“I am Molly, and you should have known better.”

Her good arm slashed at his face, stabbing and slicing furiously as he screamed and tried to move out of her reach. But the iron hands gripping his shoulders held him steady and he could only moan as she reduced his face to a scarlet ruin.

Molly dropped the scalpel with a clang. “There. Now you can have him.”

Jim clapped his hands with a titter. “Moll-y! I _am_ impressed. Very nice knife work my darling.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” She whispered.

Sebastian held her closer in his grasp and nodded. “Right kitten. Let’s get you out of here.”

*****

There was an ambulance outside and they had her sedated in no time. She didn’t dream, thankfully; she had a feeling they would have been full of red hot pain and screams anyway. When Molly woke it was in her own bed at the apartment with a cast on her arm and bandages almost from head to toe. She was still sore, but it was only a dull ache under the heavy layer of painkillers. Sebastian was dozing in a chair by her bed.

“Bastian?”

“Hmm? Molly! Wait right here, I’ll get Jim.” He sat up eagerly.

“Can I have some water first?”

“Oh, right. Boss!” Seb called as he poured her a glass from the jug by the bed.

He was helping her sip it when Jim burst in.

“Mollikins! How do you feel? Need more morphine?”

“Uh, don’t think so. It hurts a little but my head’s already so fuzzy I don’t want to take more.”

“You should have some. Sleep through it.”

“I don’t want to sleep.” She muttered.

“Ah,” Jim sat on the edge of the bed, “Would it help if I said Nemec and his man have been thoroughly dealt with?”

“Maybe. Sort of makes me feel like I should have just told them everything since you were going to kill them anyway. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

He looked thoughtful for a minute. “What if I said we were leaving Prague?”

“Leaving?” It didn’t make sense to her clouded thinking.

“Well we’re been here awhile – nine months already – and it’s been nothing but nuisances and trouble really. I am tired of living amongst drab people with drab problems. How do you feel about Spain?”

“I guess it might be nice. I think I need to take a nap, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Jim kissed her forehead, “Come along Sebastian.”

They left and she burrowed down into her blankets with a wince. _Spain sounds wonderful – warm, colourful, not Prague_. Maybe she’d take a break from the morgue too. _I don’t think I could look at an instrument for awhile._ She was drifting off when the door creaked open and a very red-faced and scratched-up Severin poked his head in.

“Hey Moll,” he looked at her glumly, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Half a second, maybe.” She yawned.

He came in and closed the door behind him, crossing to the chair by her head.

“I wanted to apologise. I fucked up and you got hurt.”

“No, no! You did a good job. What else could you have done?”

“I’m sure there was something I could have done different. Anyway, just wanted to say if you need anything just ask.”

She reached out her hand and he slipped his into it. She gave a weak squeeze and an even weaker smile.

“Thanks, Sevvie.”

 

Jim went straight to his room, Sebastian following. The assassin closed the door behind him and leaned against it. Moriarty rested his hands on the edge of his desk, breath huffing as he tried to control himself.

“I know how you feel boss. When I saw her in that cellar…”

“She will be fine. The plastic surgeons were very well paid. In time you won’t even be able to tell anything happened.” Jim grit his teeth.

He wanted to smash things. Sebastian had already lost his temper on Nemec and his dog, and Jim didn’t want to wreck the apartment and disturb Molly.

“This is unacceptable Bastian. In so many, many ways. I think we need to do a few things.”

Sebastian stripped off his tee, coming to stand behind Jim as he ran a tentative hand down the genius’ back.

“Tell me.”

“Purge Eastern Europe of Nemec’s organisation. His family, from the oldest grandmother to the littlest child. Clean up our own affairs – I trust those imbeciles who let her get snatched have already been informed of their redundancy?”

“Done and done, boss.” Sebastian kissed his neck, reaching around to help Jim out of his shirt.

“This is my fault, Bastian. I did not protect what is mine.” He said, very small and childish.

“She won’t hold it against ya, Jimmy.”

“I will not forget it though.”

Sebastian tugged him towards the bed. “Let me help you try for a while.”

*****

Molly spent the rest of the week in a drug haze while her various cuts and scrapes mended. Her arm and head were going to take longer to heal of course but by the end of that first week Molly was starting to look more herself again and less like a battered woman. She was also getting some cabin fever from being cooped inside all day, but she couldn’t exactly go out looking as she did. She was sitting on the couch one afternoon lamenting the fact with a sigh when Jim looked over from his newspaper.

“Something wrong, Molly?”

“Just a bit bored. My headaches are still too bad to read but I’ve watched every DVD we have and there’s not much else to do since I can’t go out.”

“Hmm, yes. Bit unfortunate. I could ask Severin to arrange something, he seems quite eager to make amends with you.”

“I already told him it wasn’t his fault.”

“Still, it’s good that he’s so dedicated.” Jim said coldly. Molly wondered if it was really Jim Sev needed to make it up to.

“Well I don’t see what he can do, but go ahead.”

Jim smiled devilishly. “I think I have the perfect distraction.”

 

Sebastian was helping Molly redress her wounds in her ensuite when someone called from the front door.

“Oh Molly sweet! I have some presents for you!”

She looked at Sebastian and he nodded. “Almost done here, Moll. Two seconds.”

He clipped on the last bandage around her head and stood back.

“Go on now.”

The brunette made her way into the main room, where Jim and Severin had stacked a pile of boxes on the dining table.

“Board games!” Jim spread his arms theatrically, “Fun for the whole family.”

“That’s great!” she smiled, coming over to inspect the selection.

“It’s not completely selfless on my part, dear. I think it could be good fun to watch you lot play.”

“What’s this one?” she pointed to a much larger, unmarked box.

Jim smiled. “That one’s just for you. Open it.”

She gave him a curious look and lifted the lid on a furry ball with big green eyes.

“Toby! Oh my god!”

Jim reached in and pulled out her cat, holding it so she could pet him one-handed.

“He’s been living with a friend of mine. I’d have sent for him earlier but it would have given our location away. Of course, now both Sherlock and Mycroft know it anyway.”

She looked up with glistening wet eyes. “Thank you.”

She leaned forward and hugged him awkwardly, the cat squished between them. He meowed and she stepped back hurriedly.

“Sorry Tobes! Oh, let’s go see if we can find you some milk, shall we?”

Jim placed the cat on the floor and he obediently trotted after Molly to the fridge. _Now it’s almost exactly like being at home – but better_. She reached for the bottle and her broken arm twinged and Molly frowned. _Mostly better_.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey Sherlock, how’s things? Hope business is going well (but I’m sure it is). How’s Lestrade? And John, he’s not still angry is he?_

Molly paused, fingers floating above the keys. What else could she say without giving too much away?

_Everything’s good here._

Why was she even writing to Sherlock? He wouldn’t reply anyway. Maybe it just made her feel a little less guilty if she showed him she was alive and well occasionally.

_I miss you all very much but I’m having a nice time. I know you don’t believe me but really I am. Love Molly._

She hit send.

“Making the monthly report?” Jim smirked from the doorway.

“Yes.”

“Has he replied yet?”

She scowled. “Shush you.”

“I was going out to the pool, if you wanted to come.”

“I’ll be there in two secs.”

Jim wandered off and Molly quickly grabbed her bathers. The pool was the very best thing about this place, though she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to seeing Jim in his trunks, pale skin turning a light brown.

 

From Prague they’d come to Madrid. Jim got an actual house this time, a spacious villa with sprawling rooms for each of them and a huge garden. The change in scene had kept both Morans very busy on overnight jaunts to London, Paris and Berlin, as well as work in the city itself. Molly mainly lazed about, practiced her Spanish and tried to stay cool. She wasn’t ready to go back to work yet – and she was starting to think she might never need to. Jim was including her in his work now, sounding his ideas off her and asking her opinion and only sometimes laughing. It was never anything too unsavoury – she suspected he was keeping the worst commissions from her – but it was interesting stuff all the same. More importantly, it made her feel valued in a way Sherlock never had. For him she’d been a convenient person to know; for Jim she was actually useful.

There were a few obvious downsides to living with Jim: safety concerns, not being able to have friends outside the house, putting up with his tantrums. She couldn’t date. She had to lie to people. Most of the time she couldn’t pick what they watched on TV. She wasn’t allowed to cook or go out without protection. She couldn’t have sex without anyone but Jim (he’d never said it explicitly, but he was the jealous type and it was just better not to push. The actual logistics of such an act were impossible anyway. What was she going to say, _sure I’ll go home with you but my bodyguard has to come too?_ ) Truthfully it didn’t bother her too much since she was used to being single, but the idea of it sucked. It meant she could never get married or have kids, and she was pretty sure she wanted some.

No, Molly seemed destined to die surrounded by two assassins, a criminal genius and a fat black and white cat. And she was learning to be okay with that.

*****

“You’re what, 34?” Jim asked one day while they were sunbathing.

“I would have thought you’d know.” She smirked.

“It’s never polite to just state a woman’s age.”

“Since when do you care about being polite?” she tilted her sunglasses.

“I don’t, I just thought this conversation might go better if we started out on the right foot. Do you want children, Molly?”

She just gaped at him. “Do I want what?”

“Children. It’s a perfectly reasonable assumption, given your age and biological urges combined with the way you mother us.”

She studied his face but he looked completely serious.

“Um yeah, I guess I do want them. It’s not really possible though is it? Not with this lifestyle.”

“I’d hate to think you felt unfulfilled living with us.” Jim frowned.

“I’m fine, really. I’m adjusting.”

“What if you could have children?”

“How?” she laughed, “How could I raise a child in this house, knowing it would be in as much danger as us, if not more so? I don’t see you as being very tolerant of children, and your tantrums are certainly not something you should do in front of one.”

“If I can protect you, I can protect your child. As for the rest, children love me! They think I’m hilarious. And, I don’t know, I’ll just have a special tantrum room. Full of china.” He smiled smugly.

“A child needs friends. We don’t exactly have a lot of connections to people with children.”

“Maybe we could get some. I’m pretty good at getting around incognito.”

“Why are you being so, so...pushy about this?” she sat up, fixing him with a stare.

 

Jim shrugged. “Because I’ve been thinking maybe I want some children, and this seemed like the perfect solution.”

Molly felt like her jaw honestly couldn’t stretch anymore. “You? Want children?”

“Yes. Can’t you imagine them? Little genius toddlers I can cultivate and distract myself with.”

“And you think you’d be a good influence on children?” she continued to stare.

“I need something Molly,” he sat up and turned to face her now, “Some greater purpose. I’ve arranged just about every type of crime there is and it’s never a challenge anymore. I can play six different instruments; speak twenty languages. I’m an expert on maths, physics, poisons, explosives, literature, geography, law. There is nothing new left for me. I need this.”

“Being a parent isn’t like that Jim. You can’t just have some kids to stop you being bored. What happens when you get bored of _them_? It’s a lifetime commitment. I mean, isn’t it all a bit ordinary for you?”

“You’re ordinary in some ways and I never get bored of you. Sev and Bastian can be completely predictable but I still like having them around. I’m of an age and a mind to want a little person I can show the world to, and I know you are too. Why shouldn’t we have a child?”

“Because it’s insane.”

“Alright. Don’t answer now – just think about it.”

“Don’t use that tone with me.”

“What tone?” Jim said innocently.

“The one that says you’re humouring me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it dear. You must be imagining things.”

“Hmm.” She put her sunglasses on and lay back, determined to ignore him.

*****

But Jim seemed pretty determined to wear her down. He pointed out tiny baby clothes when they went shopping; he started talking about designating a room in the house for the nursery and a possible list of tutors. He even gushed about how gorgeous she’d look pregnant.

“Stop that.” She threatened.

“Stop what?”

“Trying to appeal to my ovaries.”

“I’m not doing anything.” He smiled, but there was devilment in his eyes.

He was more affectionate with Toby too, as if that would prove he could be a good father. He even scaled back his temper a bit. Molly had to admit she was impressed with all the effort he was making, but she reminded herself it was only temporary. _He’s trying now. He’ll get over the idea in a month and then I won’t have to hear about it again_. When she caught him slipping pregnancy supplements into her meals she snapped.

“Hey! I am not just some convenient womb for you to use! You can’t manipulate me like this.”

“I apologise. I will stop pressuring you.”

“Yeah right.” She snorted.

She didn’t want to admit he was getting to her.

 

“What if I said yes? I mean, how would it work? Would we do IVF?”

“Oh no, Mollikins. Can’t trust any of my precious DNA to a lab.”

“Come on, I’m sure you know enough dodgy underground medical facilities that could do it hush hush. Or even a doctor to do it here in the house.”

“Nope, has to be done the old-fashioned way.”

“But that’s…well that’s strange, isn’t it?” she screwed her face up.

“Not really. We already have sex on occasion. It won’t be any different to that.”

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

“You will.”

“Are you so full of yourself you think I’ll just swoon at the thought of carrying your genius child?” she raised a brow.

“No. But I know you Molly. You need things to care about, and this might be the only chance you get.”

“You’re still insane.”

“You’ll still say yes.”

 

True to his word Jim didn’t mention the idea again. Instead he started staring wistfully at families on the street and stopping to say hello to children as they passed.

“I know what you’re doing.” Molly growled, but her heart softened every time she saw Jim smile at an infant. _Stupid hormones_.

She started to consider it – just a little. What would it be like to have a child with Jim? They’d have all the best advantages in the world. There was nowhere they couldn’t go, nothing they couldn’t do to enrich the baby’s life. She had seen Jim be protective enough of her to know he would cherish his offspring, even if he couldn’t always be nice to it. He was sweet and funny and smart, and if he had his flaws well didn’t everybody?

Then there was Sev and Bastian. They’d be the most devoted, caring uncles ever and not because they were paid to be, but because they both adored Molly. She still found it strange but they did seem to think of her as a sister. She could count on them to help her.

Plus deep down, she did want kids. And she wanted to stay with Jim, and this was probably the only way the two wants could overlap. _But what if he gets sick of me? Of us? I’ll be alone with a baby I’m in no way clever enough to raise_. _Jim’s nothing if not changeable_. Still, when she watched him cutting his steak and he threw her a cute cheeky grin, she couldn’t help but love him enough to trust him.

“I’ll do it.”

Jim’s smile grew. Bastian and Sev just looked confused.

“Why now?”

“I want you to be happy. I want to help you. And this is my chance too.”

“Thank you, Molly.”

The twins looked even more baffled.

“Uh, anything we should know boss?” Sev cleared his throat.

“Molly and I are going to have a baby.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed. “A what?”

“You know, small wriggly pink things that eventually grow into precocious children?”

Sev let out a laugh before smothering it in his wine glass.

“You, boss. You and a baby. _Us_ and a baby.”

“Yes Bastian. Deaf tonight are we, or just slow?”

“I think it’s great Moll.” Sev beamed.

“Thanks.” She blushed.

“See Bastian? It’s nothing to be so shocked about.”

“If you say so boss.”

 

But Sebastian had no choice. He had to get used to the idea pretty fast because Jim put him in charge of making sure Molly was the picture of health.

“She’s going to be carrying my child. We need supplements and blood tests and things Bastian. Find a good discreet doctor and check her in under an alias.”

The ride to the clinic was quiet, Molly patiently going along with Jim’s concerns and Sebastian still looking at her strangely every now and then.

“I never really thought the boss would have kids.”

“Is it a problem? You’re not going to leave us are you?” Molly teased.

“No, but you have to admit it’s odd.”

Molly laughed. “Isn’t everything about us odd?”

“But there’s so much stuff about our lives that a child shouldn’t know. I mean, Moll, how are we going to explain that you and Jim aren’t married?”

“Lots of people have kids without being married, Bastian.”

“And me and Sev, how will you explain us?”

“If you’re there from day one it will be completely normal.”

“No child of Jim Moriarty is going to take longer than a couple of years to realise that house is not normal.” Bastian snorted as he watched the road.

“Look, I know it’s weird and there’s a lot of stuff to work out. But I’ll need you Bastian. Promise you’ll help me?”

“Never doubt it, Moll.”

 

Jim was waiting the second they got back. “Well?”

“Clean bill of health.” Molly handed him the papers.

“Excellent. Now, shall we talk about names?”

“I’m not even pregnant yet!”

“I’m thinking Moriarty as the surname, obviously, but I’m willing to compromise on the first name. What do you think about Christopher?”

Molly threw herself into a chair while he rattled off options. _If he’s like this now, how bad will it be when I’m actually pregnant?_

Like everything else in Jim’s life, the procreation was rigorously planned. Molly went back to the fertility clinic several times until they had a fairly accurate chart of her ovulation cycle, and then whenever it rolled around Jim would hand his phone over to Sebastian and lock them in his room for three days. Molly wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the semi-house arrest, but he was certainly enthusiastic so she figured she’d just reap the benefits before she got fat and cranky.

“Are you going to be this eager when I’m six months along and horny as a fifteen-year-old boy?” she gasped after one bout.

“Darling, I’m going to wait on you hand and foot – weird cravings and horniness included.”

She was a bit frustrated they didn’t conceive right away, because Jim’s mood had rubbed off on her and she was actually pretty excited about the whole thing. She’d started buying pregnancy books and thinking up ways to decorate the nursery and wondering how she’d tell her mother. She broached the subject with Jim once and instantly regretted it.

“You can’t tell Sherlock I’m the father.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’ll tell Mycroft.”

“What, so they can try and abduct the baby? Sherlock wouldn’t hurt a child of mine.”

“He’s never much cared about your feelings though, has he?”

She shifted awkwardly under Jim’s gaze. “He’ll know it’s yours anyway. He can tell that sort of thing.”

“Deny, deny, deny Molly. He can’t prove it.”

“So really you’re saying I can’t tell him at all.”

Jim shrugged. “Probably not.”

She wasn’t too happy about it, but that was the price she had to pay for living with Jim Moriarty. All in all it wasn’t so bad.

*****

“Well?” Jim tried to peer over her shoulder.

“Wait five seconds, would you!” she fussed, holding the pregnancy test out of his reach.

“It’s been six months.”

“It doesn’t just happen, Jim. That’s why people say they’re ‘trying’.”

He pouted but waited silently. Finally she took a deep, sucking breath.

“Two blue lines.”

“What?” He snatched it.

“Two blue lines!”

Molly felt giddy. It was unreal - two seconds before she’d been ordinary Molly and now she had something growing inside her. She checked the mirror to see if she looked any different but the only change was the huge stupid smile on her face.

“Bastian! Break out the champagne, Daddy’s celebrating tonight!” Jim called, “Not you though Molly dear, obviously.”

“Thanks.” She rolled her eyes.

Jim grinned at her and squeezed her hand. “This is it, Mollikins. The next big adventure.”

“Sounds fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where this came from. Just popped into my head and I had to run with it, so despite my usual aversion to kidfic it's happening.


	8. Chapter 8

“You’re still throwing up?” Sev crossed his arms as he leaned against the bathroom door, “I thought it was a morning thing.”

Molly turned blazing dark eyes on him and the assassin felt a chill.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get you some crackers.”

*****

“Bastian, do we have any green tea ice cream?”

“Sorry Molly, you ate the last of it yesterday.”

The petite brunette pouted, rubbing her growing stomach. “But I want some.”

“I’ll put it on the shopping list.”

“No, I want it now.”

“It’s eleven o’clock at night Moll.”

Jim didn’t look away from the TV. “You heard the lady, Bastian. Green tea ice cream. And get me some apricot macadamia while you’re out would you?”

*****

“Jiiiiiiiim.”

He looked up with a sigh. “Yes darling?”

“I dropped a pen and I can’t reach it.”

“Don’t you have five others on your desk?”

The silence did not bode well for him. The genius pushed his chair back with a huff and walked into Molly’s study to retrieve it.

“Thank you.” She smiled warmly.

“Anything else?”

“No, I think that’s it.”

“Fantastic.”

*****

“Do you want to know the sex of the baby?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Jim, I want it to be a surprise.”

“But we need to start planning the nursery.”

“Jim, I’m going to be pushing a human out of my vagina. Did you ever watch those videos in med school? Because I did. I _need_ the surprise.”

“We don’t want to know.”

*****

“Jiiiiiiim. Come back to bed.”

The genius drained his scotch with a shaking hand. Severin looked up from his magazine and raised a brow.

“Trouble boss?”

“I can’t go back in there, Sevvie. She’s going to kill me.”

“I never thought you’d get sick of sex, Jim.” The blond snorted.

Moriarty turned wide, frightened eyes on him. “You want to take my place? Go right ahead, please.”

Sev shot a doubtful look at the hallway. “Maybe I’ll just stay here.”

“No, no, that’s a great idea! You and Bastian are fit experienced young things. Molly’s an attractive woman. Why shouldn’t we share it around?”

Severin looked like a frightened rabbit for a moment before Molly’s voice broke the silence again.

“Jiiiiiiiim!”

Moriarty sighed and shook out his neck.  “I guess not then.”

He walked back and found her already fast asleep, belly poking out under her over-sized tee. Any resentment he felt melted away as he drew the covers up.

*****

“Blue. So it’s a boy?” Sebastian asked as he wiped his brush off on the edge of the can.

“We don’t know yet. But there’s no reason girls can’t like blue.” Molly smiled.

“That’s true.”

Plus there was no way anyone was going to argue with the rotund pathologist if blue was what she wanted.

“What I don’t get is why the boss doesn’t have to help.” Sev muttered.

“Sorry?” Molly turned.

“Nothin’ Moll, just saying to Bastian here you’re really glowing today.”

“Aww, you’re such sweet boys!”

 

Jim ordered new things for the baby every day. He set up a top range birthing suite in an empty room of the house, since no progeny of his was coming into the world in an ordinary hospital. Once the essentials like furniture and clothes were done he started stocking up for the child’s education. There were books and toys and tools and interactive DVDs and CDs full of lullabies - “Because of course, as much as I’d like to, there will be nights I’m too busy to personally sing it to sleep.”

Molly was too big now to do much but sit on the couch in pain and moan all her maternity clothes were too tight.

“For such a small man, how could your baby be so big!” she shot daggers at Jim.

He just buttered her up with backrubs. The boys started tiptoeing around the house in case they woke Molly.

“Better to be safe than sorry.” Sev whispered to his brother.

*****

“Jim!” The brunette shook him.

“Huh?” the genius raised his bedraggled head. He’d taken to sleeping in Molly’s room for her last two weeks.

“My water broke.”

“Oh. Oh! Right, I’ll call the doctor.”

“Don’t leave me. I’m frightened.” She grabbed his hand.

“Your contractions haven’t even started.”

“Still.” She looked up at him tearfully.

“Alright,” Jim grabbed his phone, “Bastian? Wake Sev and go pick up the doctor, Molly’s in labour.”

“I don’t know if I can do this Jim.”

“I know you can. You’re Molly, remember? You’ve got lots of hidden talents.” He smoothed her hair back off her face.

She nodded, hands clasped over her straining stomach. Sev ran in half-dressed.

“Boss?”

“Help me get her to the delivery room.”

“You won’t leave me Jim, will you?”

“Not even for a second.”

 

Severin and his brother waited outside in the lounge room. Sev was trying to concentrate on an Xbox game and failing miserably, while Sebastian just tapped his foot against his opposite knee and stared out the window.

“It’s been eleven hours.”

“I don’t know how long these things are meant to take.” Sev shrugged. There was another pained cry from the labour room and both Morans winced.

“Wouldn’t be a woman for all the money in the world, mate.”

Bastian sniffed. “Too right.”

“Wouldn’t be Jim right now either.”

They both shuddered.

“Still, can’t be much longer.”

 

Molly wanted to find the man who’d invented laughing gas and kiss him right on the mouth. She knew if she wasn’t so dopey she’d probably remember his name from some long-forgotten period of med school, but all she could focus on was the nice elderly doctor telling her to push and Jim’s face wild with excitement as he watched by her shoulder. It was strange and not at all what she’d been expecting, this eagerness, this wanting to be involved. They were still just…companions or housemates or whatever they’d been before, but now they had a child together, and it was strange. They were linked forever now.

Molly pushed until she thought she was literally going to die, to push all her muscles and organs out in one swoop, but Jim put a cool hand on her forehead and smiled and she felt a little stronger.

“Okay Mollikins, just one more.”

“Just…one?”

“Just one.”

*****

The twins sat up as Jim came out of the delivery room with a small white bundle in his arms. He’d taken off his green surgical cover and hat, casual in a black tee and jeans.

“Boss?”

“Boys, say hello to your new priority, Miss Eleanor Louise Moriarty.”

Hesitantly they stood and came closer. Sebastian glanced at the criminal before extending his finger to stroke her tiny hand.

“She’s got your eyes boss.” Sev smiled.

“Moll’s hair though. How is she?”

“I think she’ll sleep forever if I let her. Or I should say, if this little lady lets her.” He cooed.

“Wow. Wow Jim. This is a weird picture right here.” Sebastian shook his head.

“Feels perfectly fine to me.”

 

Molly sent a picture to her mother and one to Sherlock. In the accompanying notes she lied and said the baby’s last name was Hooper. She got an email back from Sherlock a week later.

 _Give Jim my congratulations_.

*****

“Hey Lulu. Whatcha reading?” Molly smiled as she placed her shopping on the kitchen counter.

The three-year-old kicked her chubby legs against the couch. “Unca Sevvie’s book.”

Molly looked up sharply. “What?”

Eleanor held up the Guns & Ammo magazine to show her mother. “See? Lots of guns like Unca Bastie has.”

“Lulu, where is Uncle Sev?”

The tiny brunette tilted her head in the way so similar to her father and pointed to the armchair in the corner. The assassin was fast asleep, a small pile of story books on his lap.

“He was reading to me but he got tired.”

“Okay. How about Mummy takes this,” she knelt and gently tugged the magazine out of her hands, “And you go tell Daddy it’s dinnertime.”

“Okay!” the girl hopped down, toddling off gleefully to find her father.

Molly strode over to the chair and smacked Sev in the back of the head with the magazine.

“What, what?” he sat up.

“Is this your idea of watching her?”

“Sorry Moll,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “She wore me out. I’ve never been asked so many questions in such a short time.”

“Hmmph. Well the idea is to put her down for a nap, not take one yourself. And keep this stuff in your room – it’s bad enough we even have to have guns in the house, let alone that she knows all about them.”

Jim came in bouncing Eleanor on his hip. “Hey there Mollikins! Lulu was just telling me about the most interesting book she found this afternoon.”

“Yep, Uncle Sev told me all about it.” She exchanged a look with him.

Severin ducked his head. “I’ll uh, I’ll go set the table.”

“Good idea.” Jim’s lip curled up at the side.

“Daddy, can we go to the zoo tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, precious. Daddy’s very busy at the moment. But I’ll try very, very hard to clear a few hours in the morning, how ‘bout that?”

“Yay!”

“Can you tell me the classifications for fauna?” he headed for the dinner table.

“Kingdom, phylum, class, order…”

Molly shook her head as her toddler finished reciting. “Okay everyone, dinner time!”

*****

“I don’t understand Mummy. Why do we have to move?”

“Sweetheart, Daddy needs to go to London for his work. But you’ll like it there I promise. It’s where Mummy’s from, and you can meet all her friends. Would you like to meet your grandma?”

“I guess. And we’ll all live together same as we do here?”

Molly straightened her coat. “Course darling. Now, go get your teddy. The car’s waiting to take us to the airport.”

Eleanor skipped away and Molly leaned against the counter chewing her lip.

“You’re worrying again.”

She glanced at Jim. “Aren’t you? This could be a terrible mistake.”

“It will be alright. She’s got her fierce mama bear, and her father – cleverest man in Europe if not the world-”

Molly snorted.

“And two dedicated, loving, highly talented killing machines for uncles. Lulu’s gonna be fine.”

“It’ll be nice to see my mum again I guess.”

“There you go. And there are schools in England equipped to deal with a girl of her…unusual upbringing. You wanted her to be as normal as possible, right? Make friends her own age?”

“I know. I know, we’ve been over it and I agree, of course I do. It’s just a little scary.”

He kissed her forehead. “I know, dearest. Isn’t that why you live with me anyway?”

 

Most five-year-olds might have slept through the plane ride, but not Eleanor. Instead she bounced on her father’s lap pointing at things from the window.

“What’s that?”

“The English Channel. Can you name the different types of clouds?”

“Cirrus, nimbus, stratus, cumulus, stratocumulus, cumulonimbus, altostratus…”

She was worse in the car from the airport to their new townhouse. Every landmark had to be named as they passed.

“It’s very grey, isn’t it? Not at all like Madrid.”

“No, but you’ll get used to it. London has its own charms.” Jim smiled behind his hand.

She gasped at the big Georgian rose pink building as they drew up outside.

“Is this our new house?”

“It is. Sadly I couldn’t find one with a pool, but do you want to go up and see your new room?” Moriarty offered her his hand.

Molly followed close behind, leaving Sebastian and Severin to coordinate their luggage. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she stopped on the stairs to check the message.

_Welcome back. Fancy some tea?_

“You are not bringing Sherlock Holmes into our house.” Jim scowled.

“Well I can’t take Lulu to Baker Street, can I? It’s not safe.”

“Don’t take Lulu at all.”

“He wants to meet her. Everyone’s going to be there; Lestrade and Mrs Hudson and even John, and some of my old colleagues from St Bart’s-”

“Alright, I get it, important lunch. You want them all to see her, and admittedly it makes more sense to get it over and done with. I hardly think Mycroft will try to snatch her away under the eyes of good old Mrs Hudson either. Very well. Take Lulu – and Sebastian too. And I’ll post someone outside for good measure.”

“Too clever for me, as always.” She kissed his cheek.

“Oh stop that. It’s unseemly.” But he smiled all the same.

 

“Look at you! Look at you.” Mrs Hudson laughed as she opened the door.

“Hi,” Molly blushed.

“And this must be your little one. Hello young lady.”

“Hello. Nice to meet you.” Eleanor offered her hand.

“Oh, a right proper lady too! Come upstairs, quick. Everyone’s waiting to see you.”

Molly felt a moment of apprehension but Sebastian just pressed a hand into the small of her back softly and she sighed.

“We can do this, right?” she whispered.

“We can do anything, Moll.”

She helped Lulu take her coat off and draped them over the bannister before shooing her upstairs.

“Are there going to be a lot of people, Mum?” the girl muttered.

“A few sweet, but don’t worry. They’ll love you.” _Well, most of them_.

The main room of 221B looked like nothing had changed. John sat in his old armchair, a pretty blonde beside him. Lestrade was by the window chatting to one of Molly’s schoolmates. There were a few others scattered around the room, but Molly only had eyes for one man. Sherlock looked a little older but still gorgeous, those high cheekbones severe against his pale eyes. He was fingering his violin strings silently, watching Lulu with intense interest.

“Hi everyone!” Molly gave a weak wave.

Sebastian’s presence got a few strange looks but everyone quickly came over to kiss her cheek and gush over Eleanor. Except Sherlock, who sat right in his chair and idly plucked.

 

Eleanor was a tad tired of all the people talking to her like she was an idiot. Her mother had tried very hard to teach her to be polite to people, even if she was smarter than them, but she didn’t understand why she had to be nice when Daddy never bothered. She waited until Mrs Hudson had pulled her mother into the kitchen for more tea and Uncle Sebastian was leaning on the windowsill talking to the old grey-haired detective before approaching the only man who hadn’t spoken to her yet.

“Why are you sitting here by yourself? Don’t you like parties?”

“Not particularly. Do you?”

“They’re okay I guess. I have to keep my thoughts to myself sometimes.”

“I’ll bet. Like your father?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about him.” The brunette smiled coyly.

“Why not?”

“He has a secret identity. Like a superhero or a spy.”

Sherlock barked a laugh. “Yes, I guess it’s a bit like that isn’t it?”

“Stradivarius?” she nodded at the violin.

“Yes. You play?”

“Some. I prefer piano, like Daddy.”

“Want to show me some?”

He offered her the bow and instrument and she took them eagerly. Before Sherlock could stop her she’d climbed into his lap. He stiffened uncomfortably.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine. I just don’t think I’ve ever held a child in my lap before.”

“Mum said you were strange around people. Is it because you’re clever too?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She raised the violin and started to play, a beautiful Verdi piece that wasn’t too complicated but still astounding for a child. _But then_ , Sherlock mused, _she’s not an ordinary child_. The rest of the guests were used to Sherlock playing at odd moments and ignored it, but Molly and Sebastian recognised the piece and looked over.

“Sherlock?” Molly whispered under her breath in disbelief as the consulting detective watched her daughter play, even correcting her hold on the bow at one point. She stood in the kitchen doorway, gobsmacked.

“Will you look at that?” Mrs Hudson smiled, “Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”

 

Most of the guests didn’t stay long. Even John and his wife shuffled off early, and Molly could tell by the tightness of his mouth the doctor still hadn’t forgiven her for her part in Sherlock’s charade. It sort of hurt but she understood.

At three Mrs Hudson claimed she needed a nap, leaving Molly and Sebastian alone to watch Sherlock and Lulu pouring through an illustrated encyclopaedia of bugs.

“What do ya know?” the sniper muttered, “Lulu can charm the pants off anyone, even the notoriously asocial Sherlock Holmes.”

“She must get it from me.” Molly winked.

“Why do you live alone, Mr Sherlock?”

“Well, it has been made very clear to me I am not the easiest person to live with.”

“Neither’s Daddy sometimes, but he still has Mummy and Uncle Sev and Uncle Bastian.”

“Then he is very lucky.” Sherlock made a face.

“Aren’t I just?”

They turned to find Jim in the doorway with his arms wide, smirking as ever.

“I thought I’d swing by and check on the party but it looks like it’s about finished.”

“It wasn’t much fun.” Eleanor screwed up her nose.

“Lulu! That wasn’t nice.” Molly scolded.

“Sorry Mum.” The girl hung her head.

“No, she’s right. I never enjoy those things either.” Sherlock waved a hand dismissively.

“I see you two are making yourselves comfortable.” Jim wandered over to Sherlock’s armchair, hands in his pockets.

“Mr Sherlock has some lovely books.”

“I’ll bet. Anything I might be interested in, poppet?”

“There’s a history of Newton.”

“Fascinating.” The criminal just stared at his archenemy with Eleanor in his lap. His daughter was too busy reading to take any notice but the staring contest was making Molly uneasy.

 

“Well, Sherlock, thanks for having us, but I should get Lulu home. We’ve got school to prepare for.”

“You go on ahead with Bastian. I’m going to stay and catch up with Sherlock.” Jim smiled.

“Do we have to go, Mum? If D-Jim’s staying can’t I keep reading?”

Sherlock edged her off his lap. “Tell you what, Eleanor. How about you borrow that one? I’ve got it memorised anyway.”

“Really? Thanks.”

“Alright Lulu, downstairs. Say goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Mr Sherlock.”

“Goodbye Miss Moriarty.” Sherlock winked.

Eleanor giggled and headed downstairs with the others. Jim fell into the chair Molly had just vacated.

“So, Sherlock. What’s new?”

“She takes after you.”

“With a handful of Molly’s better qualities thrown in, I like to think. You’re not going to offer me tea?”

“Kettle’s in the kitchen. You and Molly aren’t in love.”

“Just friends.”

“You don’t have friends, and most friends don’t have children together.”

“What can I say? We’re a unique bunch.”

“She’s brilliant.”

“Of course. What else could she be?”

They were quiet for a long moment, Jim’s eyes raking the room.

“I haven’t told Mycroft.”

“Really? Some sort of sudden loyalty to Molly?”

“He doesn’t need to know.”

“I agree.”

“But he’ll figure it out.”

“Probably. I can handle Mycroft if I have to.”

 

Sherlock was quiet again, stroking the wood of his violin absentmindedly. He cleared his throat.

“You’re not going to try and kill me again, are you?”

“Not high on my to-do list, no.”

“Then may I ask for a favour?”

Jim popped his mouth into a wide ‘o’. “A favour for Sherlock Holmes? I can’t even begin to imagine.”

“I was surprised you chose to have a child. Living as you do, so seemingly unaffectionate…it seemed out of character.”

“Told you I was changeable.”

“Yes. However I am not. My attention span is much shorter than yours, and I am widely told I’m unbearable to be around for any length of time. I could never have a child like an average person.”

“Going to ask if you can borrow Molly’s womb? Because I doubt she’d go for that again.”

“No. I thought, perhaps, you might…I don’t know. Bring Eleanor to visit sometimes.”

Jim raised his brows. “Really? She made that much of an impression already? It’s the eyes, isn’t it – people are suckers for those big eyes.”

“She is one of the few sensible people I’ve ever met and she’s five. I had a better conversation with her than with any of the adults who tried to keep up with me the rest of the afternoon. She was eager to learn anything I could tell her, and she never once looked at me strangely or doubted me.”

“So basically you want a child in your life to stroke your ego.”

“I want to share my work with someone who’ll appreciate it for once.”

“Now that’s not fair Sherly,” Jim pouted, “I appreciate you.”

“And I think you’ll agree there’s a slight conflict of interest in us pursuing an acquaintance.”

“But none in spending time with my daughter?”

“It’s the closest I could get to passing on my knowledge.” Sherlock shrugged.

Jim looked thoughtful. “Alright. God knows Molly likes you for some reason. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to see you on a regular basis. And it won’t hurt Lulu to have another intelligent being in her life. But if I catch you making aspersions against my character or exposing her to things from your cases-”

“I wouldn’t. You know enough about my childhood to know I could never ruin a child’s innocence.”

“Well I don’t know about innocence, but Molly’s pretty adamant Lulu stay out of that business as long as possible. And I listen to Molly – she’s a scary lady.”

 

The scary lady was trying to make her daughter stand still so she could measure her for her new uniform when Jim walked in.

“Daddy!”

“Hello pumpkin. Are you being good for Mum?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lying?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

“How was it with Sherlock?” Molly asked, looking harassed.

“I liked him. He wasn’t stupid.”

“Well he liked you too, honey,” Jim beamed, “Do you want to see him again?”

“Oh yes! He was such long, exciting books, and he plays the violin, and he has a skull on his mantel.”

“A skull! Then you should definitely spend more time with him.”

“Really?” Molly frowned, “You want Lulu to see Sherlock?”

“Why ever not, dear. They might be a good influence on each other.”

“Lulu, go find your new school shoes.”

“Okay.”

As soon as she was out of earshot Molly grabbed Jim’s arm. “Is this another game between you and Sherlock?”

“Do you honestly think I would use Lulu like that?”

“No.” she admitted.

“I just want her to feel stimulated. And Sherlock is nothing if not thought-provoking.”

“Okay. I guess it would be good for him. I was really surprised how well they got on.”

“I wasn’t.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Sherlock!”

The detective looked up from his microscope with a smile. “Hello Lulu. How was school?”

“Good I suppose. They’re teaching us self-defence.”

“Self-defence?” he quirked a brow.

“Well, lots of the girls have very important parents. They might be targeted.”

“Seems sensible.”

“The teacher wants to move her up a grade.” Molly smiled patiently as she hung her coat on the stand by the lab door.

“Again? What are we going to do with you?”

“But the work is so _easy_ , Sherlock.” Lulu pouted in an exact imitation of her father.

“It doesn’t hurt that she’s got Jim and you pouring information into her either.” Molly came to stand by the bench.

“Can I see?” Eleanor pointed at Sherlock’s experiment.

“Sure. Pull up a stool.”

The eight-year-old had to kneel on the cushion to be able to see but she adjusted the dials like a pro. She looked like a proper school miss in her dark navy uniform, wavy hair in two long plaits.

“Vegetative substance?”

“Good. Anything else?”

“Tropical...very uncommon. Did you get it from a greenhouse?”

“I took it from a windowsill,” Sherlock said, “I think there was a plant there but somebody moved it.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Why don’t you think of a list of reasons and tell me?”

Eleanor smiled and grabbed a blank sheet of paper and pen, writing quickly.

 

Molly leaned close to Sherlock’s ear.

“This isn’t a murder case, is it?”

“No no, stolen inheritance. Perfectly age appropriate.”

“Good. Nice to see you back in the lab like the old days.”

“Have you ever thought about coming back? To St Bart’s I mean.” Sherlock looked intrigued.

Molly spluttered. “I guess, sometimes. But that part of my life is over for the time being, and I want to focus on being around for Lulu. She needs someone in her life who’s not a genius or she’ll get a complex like her father.”

He gave her a piercing look. “I’m still not used to that, you know.”

Molly shrugged. “I’ve got a lovely daughter. It doesn’t matter where she came from.”

“Finished.” Eleanor handed Sherlock her page covered in tiny scrawling words.

“Hmm...yes, yes, very good. Ah, the problem with this theory? There were no south-facing windows in the house.”

“Well if you’re going to withhold information, how can I make a proper assessment?” Lulu frowned.

“You’re very right. I should know better than to deprive you of data.”

“Why are you sad, Sherlock?”

“Lulu,” Molly hissed, “You shouldn’t be so blunt.”

“I remember a time when your mother asked me something very similar, in this very room.” Sherlock smiled.

“Is it because of that man John? Mum said the three of you used to work in here all the time. Do you miss him?”

Sherlock sighed. “Sometimes, yes. But he’s happier now, with his wife, and I have my work.”

“And us.”

“Yes,” he smiled ruefully, “I suppose I have you too.”

*****

“No.”

“Oh please, Dad! Sherlock’s never even been here.”

“With good reason! I don’t need him poking around.”

The teenager pouted. “Come on Dad. It makes way more sense for him to come to us rather than try and cram everyone into that tiny room at Baker Street.”

“No.”

“It’s Christmas, Jim.” Molly piped up from where she was sitting on the couch, supposedly reading but avidly watching the argument.

“No, no, no. And I’d appreciate if you stayed out of it Mollikins.”

“Dad! It’s been _ten years_. He’s not going to rat you out.”

Jim sighed and thrust aside his paper. “I’m not going to have a moment’s peace until I say yes, am I?”

“Nope.” Eleanor smiled brightly.

“Fine. Sherlock can come for Christmas. But no Lestrade!”

“Dad-”

“He hasn’t retired yet, and asking me to bring a detective inspector into my home on Christmas is a bit much, pumpkin.”

“Fine. But Mrs Hudson.”

“Fine.”

“Thanks Daddy!” she kissed his cheek and hurried off.

“You just got totally owned by a fifteen-year-old.” Molly said casually.

Jim’s paper rustled angrily. “Butt out, dearest.”

She just laughed.

 

On Christmas Day Severin went to pick up Sherlock while Seb prepared lunch and Molly helped in non-cooking related ways. Jim waited patiently in his study until he heard the front door and sauntered out to intercept their guests – both blindfolded, as per his orders.

“Welcome to our humble home.” He said with a mocking bow.

Eleanor bounced up, rolling her eyes when she saw the blindfolds.

“Dad...”

“I said they could come, didn’t I? Now why don’t you get Mrs Hudson nice and comfy on the couch. I want a word with Sherlock.”

Lulu’s eyes narrowed. “Remember it’s Christmas, yeah? Peace on earth and goodwill to all men?”

“I’m only going to talk to him.” Jim said innocently.

“It’s fine Lulu. Your father hasn’t tried to kill me since before you were born; I don’t think he’ll start again now.”

Jim raised a brow but gestured towards the hall. Sherlock followed him to the small informal study where Jim kept his books and Lulu’s equipment – nothing important for his work. He didn’t trust Sherlock that much.

“Very nice.”

“Thank you, but I can’t take all the credit. Molly’s a decent decorator when you warn her away from pink.”

“You didn’t steal me away so quickly for a casual chat about your decor. What’s on your mind?” Sherlock idly toyed with a microscope.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jim chuckled, “This is serious though. Sit.”

Sherlock looked intrigued, sinking into one of a handful of armchairs arranged around a long table. Jim perched in another and sighed deeply, smoothing his hair with one hand.

“I wouldn’t even bother with your opinion, but it’s about Lulu and I want all the brainpower I can get.”

“What’s wrong?” Sherlock fought to keep the concern from his voice.

“She’s...dating.” Moriarty spat.

“She’s only thirteen.”

Jim looked at him incredulously. “She’s fifteen. How can you remember over three hundred species of bugs and not how old the only teenager in your life is?”

“I buy her a present on her birthday, don’t I? Don’t see that her exact age matters.” Sherlock sniffed.

“Well it does. The school encouraged us to push her on to higher studies, which of course meant co-ed.” Jim shuddered.

“And now she’s dating. Well there’s nothing wrong with that, I’ve heard it’s common amongst the youth.”

“There is everything wrong with it Sherlock! I will not have my daughter taken advantage of by some post-adolescent numbskull with a half-decent pick-up line!”

Sherlock’s answer was in his most sarcastic drawl. “I think we can safely say Eleanor is clever enough to look after herself. Besides, most people bore her anyway. I don’t see what there is to worry about.”

“Teenage rebellion, that’s what I’m worried about. I remember how I was.”

“I think Molly’s genes will balance you out. What does she think of this?”

“She’s glad! Wants Lulu to be happy.”

“And you don’t?”

 

The question hung between the two aging intellectuals for a long moment.

“She can’t have a normal life. Poor Molly had to give up any chance of real love or marriage so she could stay with me. Dull ordinary dreams, yes, but I don’t want Lulu to miss out on anything because I’m her father.”

“Maybe you should retire then.”

Moriarty laughed. “I can’t retire, Sherlock. You know that better than anyone. Look at you, going on what – forty eight? Forty nine? And still you live between St Bart’s and Baker Street, working your cases and catching your crooks.”

“Fine. So retirement is out. She goes by an alias at school, yes?”

“We use Hooper for public records, yes. Nothing I can’t erase after the fact anyway.”

“So let her be Eleanor Hooper. Hardly anyone knows what you look like, so the likelihood of them linking Eleanor Hooper with Lulu Moriarty, a girl no one even knows exists, is small to say the least. She knows what you do and she knows not to take risks, either.”

“I appreciate the advice, Sherly, really I do but that’s not why I asked you in here. I want an extra pair of eyes. I’ve already got Sev and Bastian watching her and I trust them to break limbs if this boy puts a toe out of line. But I need you to watch for any signs she might be planning something. Any hint of trouble or mischief. She’s too damned smart to be obvious in front of me. Just say you’ll help, Sherly? I promise it’s the only thing I’ll ever ask of you.”

Sherlock rubbed his hands together. “Very well. I’ll spy on Lulu for you – but only to make sure she’s not getting herself into trouble. I’m not going to report her every move. Clear?”

“Crystal.”

 

They rejoined the others as they took their places at the table. Sherlock found himself between Molly and Eleanor, giving him a clear shot to interrogate the girl over lunch. He shot Jim a wry glance and sat.

“I hope Dad wasn’t bothering you. You are a guest.”

“No, no, just some seasonal endearments.” Sherlock wrinkled his nose at his sort-of niece.

If anything time had made Eleanor look even more like her mother. She had Jim’s eyes though, and his stare that cut a person into their separate parts. She’d cast off the rigid school uniform in favour of some elegant designer threads Sherlock couldn’t help but admire. He could see she was growing into the sort of girl boys might chase, not knowing they were the ones getting in too deep.

“Your mother told me you’ve started at Oxford. Enjoying it?”

“It’s grand. The curriculum is way more in-depth.” Lulu smiled.

“And it doesn’t bother you, being the youngest?”

“Not really. I’m more mature than half the students anyway. They seemed to find me funny at first, but I soon corrected them.” She grinned wolfishly.

“Hmm. How many broken noses did it take?” he muttered so Molly couldn’t overhear.

“Sherlock! I’m shocked at your inference! Why should I beat them with my fists when my wits will do nicely? I don’t like to get my hands dirty.”

 _Like someone else I know_. “So no one worth making friends with?”

“I didn’t say that,” Eleanor shrugged, “Everyone wants to be my friend because I’m a novelty, and I get to pick and choose.”

“Just make sure you pick the right ones, Lulu.”

“You sound like Dad.” She scowled.

“Normally I would never doubt your ability to make the right choices, but this is all very new for you. People will try to win you over and that attention can be flattering.”

“Do _you_ enjoy it when people suck up to you, Sherly?

He grimaced. “Only if I think their praise matters. If their opinion counts for something.”

“Exactly. Don’t be such an old fusspot. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will.”

 

After lunch they sat around the giant tree that Molly had insisted on and Lulu had decorated with Sev’s help. Lulu positioned herself by the presents and started handing them out.

“This one’s Mum’s...Dad...Uncle Bastian. Ooh, this one’s mine! Dad, Uncle Sev – one for you, Mrs Hudson – and here’s yours from me and mum, Sherlock.”

She handed the detective a thin flat parcel.

“Oh,” he looked a little surprised, “I had thought after the previous disasters Molly had given up on buying me presents.”

“Well I picked it.” the teenager winked.

He tore back the bright green paper to reveal a black box.

“Know what it is yet?” Lulu giggled.

“Hmm...fine cardboard, no monogram or branding. Custom-made then, and not by any speciality company.”

“That’s right, I did it myself.”

He opened the lid and just stared. Lying in dull purple velvet was a chess set of contrasting metals, the pieces so beautifully made they looked liquid.

Lulu took the gift excited and laid it out, fiddling with a tiny button on one side. “See? You’ve got two sets of pieces so we can play on my visits, but I rigged up a single player A.I as well.”

“Artificial _intelligence_?” Sherlock sneered, “Not much of a challenge, Lulu.”

“But _I_ programmed it. None of your basic chess algorithms here, Sherlock. I figured since it was so easy for you to read people, playing a faceless machine would be harder. So I gave it the best brain I could – mine, with some outside help.”

She’d laid out the silver pieces on one side of the board, and now the metal squares of the other lit up with small symbols. Lulu advanced a pawn and on the other side a glowing knight moved to a space forward and left.

“This is...extraordinary.” Sherlock raised his brows.

“Good.” Lulu grinned.

“Here, I got you something small.” Sherlock reached into his pocket and brought out a small blue velvet box.

Lulu opened it eagerly, eyes wide with curiosity. Inside lay a very old but well-cared for necklace, one single large emerald sparkling in a very Victorian wrought silver setting.

“It was my mother’s. She left it to me and it was only going to sit in a drawer.” Sherlock shrugged, a little embarrassed.

“It’s beautiful.” Eleanor cooed, immediately taking it out and fastening the chain around her neck.

“What’s that, dear?” Molly looked over from her own unwrapping.

“Look what Sherlock gave me Mum!” Lulu shuffled over to show her.

Molly touched the stone lightly. “It’s lovely.”

The girl went to show Mrs Hudson and Sherlock’s eyes met Molly’s. She was giving him a strange look, one that seemed to say _See? You have a heart after all, Sherlock Holmes_. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat and looked away.

 

The final present tally was impressive. No one else had bought for Sherlock except Mrs Hudson, who gave him a misguided book on manners. The Morans got cookbooks from Molly and Christmas bonuses from Jim, except Sebastian who also got a little package he wouldn’t show anyone the contents of, face red as a tomato.

Lulu had made her mother a music box that played her own compositions and was small enough to wear around her neck. Jim gave Molly a collection of prints of macroscopic cell photography, each big and colourful and intricate. She smiled and insisted they should be put up first thing. Lulu got a first edition Newton that made the girl sigh happily.

“Because,” Jim smirked, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

*****

By the time she was twenty-two, Eleanor had two doctorates and half a dozen bachelor degrees in various fields and a string of boyfriends that only lasted a couple of weeks each before boring her. Sherlock had finally given up chasing criminals when he got too stiff and moved to Sussex to keep bees (much to Jim’s amusement). Moriarty had scaled back his own operations and laid off the aging Morans with enough money that they never had to work again. Mycroft was still drifting around the halls of state but he never bothered them, and Jim had a strange feeling Sherlock was to thank for that.

For her birthday Jim took Lulu on a tour of South America, and she decided she wanted to spend a decade or so working on irrigation solutions and education for developing countries. Jim in turn pledged to help out by assassinating several corrupt government leaders, and while Eleanor rolled her eyes there was a sparkle in them that told Jim she liked the idea.

“See? I told you once if you and Sherlock put your minds to something useful you could solve all the world’s problems in a heartbeat. And now Lulu’s doing it for you.” Molly smirked.

“Oh shut up, dearest. It’s not kind to gloat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it folks! Sorry if the up and down of this was confusing. One minute it's kidnap fic, then there's kids, I dunno. My brain got hijacked.


End file.
